En Route, Movie Two
by Anotherjaneway
Summary: Roy and Johnny learn the other side of EMS work when they are ordered to train EMTs at their own ambulance company for an entire summer. Dixie suffers career doubts and begins to reinvent herself.


Emergency Theater Live, Episode 54

MOVIE TWO

54. En Route, Movie Two, (Episode 54)

Short summary- Roy and Johnny learn the other side of EMS work when they are ordered to train EMTs at their own ambulance company for an entire summer. Dixie suffers career doubts and begins to reinvent herself.

****WARNING**** The long summary to come is very story spoiling and will take away plot surprises if you read it now before reading the longer story below it.

Decide now if you want to read this episode's detailed summary before doing so.

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Long Summary-Movie Two, En Route

Movie Two, En Route, Episode 54

Part One

Dixie escapes the bustle of a boring work day by hiding in the paramedic base station, suddenly aware of negative emotions that are preying upon her. Joe Early enters the room and offers sage advice by having her seek out a paramedic appraisal of her nursing career thus far for rebalancing.  
McCall feels the weight of job boredom and is shocked when she suffers a snappy mood with the other nurses.  
Roy and Johnny get into an argument about another of Gage's crushes, this time on a female EMT on a Mayfair ambulance. At the station, Cap tries to conduct a monthly meeting but is met with empty donut plates, a sulking Henry,  
and a grumpy fire crew. He throws a surprise mock scenario still alarm that activates the EMS and fire department grid along with Rampart. The guys pull a prank on Marco using an I.V. line.  
En route to the hospital, a pair of female EMTs read Gage the riot act about cheapening their mock drill by his joking around.  
He learns a thing or two about their job perspectives and cooperates on livening up the training run for a new EMT.  
Things go smoothly, for a fake head bump until it came time for a faked seizure. At the hospital, Dixie is stuck with calming the angry EMT afterwards. At lunch the gang discusses recent events with the female EMTs and suffer bouts of food possession. Chet is ecstatic about a summer without Johnny until he learns who is replacing him when he leaves to go work for Mayfair in an exchange program. McCall escapes into the doctor's lounge for a desperate break. There Joe and Kel offer sympathies about her day and offer a new idea to recharge her unhealthy mood and attitude about her career. Dixie leaps at the chance to serve on a Mayfair ambulance along with Roy and Johnny. Station 51 responds to an unknown call at a marina warehouse, once there Station 8's Captain Stone waves them off when he discovers a failed arson attempt on an already burned building with no trapped victims or fire. Squad 51 receives a call about a woman down and leaves the scene. Traveling to the address,  
the two paramedics are increasingly nervous as the quality of the neighborhood goes down dramatically. The sound of gunfire prompts them to radio for police escort. They are met up with Vince and a CHiP cruiser. Howard orders them into bullet vests and they head off to go find the squad's patient before the resident gangs retaliate. They find out that their patient isn't a patient or unconscious. They referee a cat fight that breaks out involving alcohol. A boy is discovered suffering from self inflicted poisoning and Squad 51 begins steps to treat him aggressively. Johnny meets up with his EMT crush on the Mayfair ambulance. Complications arise when the gangs set a park on fire in the neighborhood, trapping police, ambulance and Squad 51 right where they are at the triplex. Copter Ten rescues the EMTs and paramedics by leading them to safety by guiding them along the L.A. Riverbed to a pickup point. A young EMT Gage is infatuated with is taught about emotional detachment on the job.  
Dixie, Roy and Johnny get fired up over the start of their summer as Mayfair Ambulance management staff on their first morning.  
They make new Mayfair EMTs at ease with pizza and light banter. Officers Poncherello and Baker from the CHiPs division make themselves known as participants for the summer's orientation. Johnny is stunned by the discovery of advanced paramedic gear on the fleet of Mayfair ambulances in the company garage. Joe Early checks up on Sharon Walters who inherits Dixie's head nurse spot while she's away as ambulance manager. The gang gets acquainted with Craig Brice and Bob Bellingham, battlion transferred paramedic firefighters, who will man Squad 51 in place of Johnny and Roy. Station 51 is first on scene to a truck fire and Cap is made the Incident Commander when it becomes apparent that a tunnel fire has caused a brush fire to start on a nearby hill. Mayfair ambulance is put on triage alert.  
Dixie sends CHiPs Baker and Poncherello to the incident when her office scanner mentions traffic control help is short handed.  
Together, CHiP Ponch and Brice and Bellingham find a teenager near a fatal fire in the tunnel. Cap and Marco rescue a trucker from a gas leak. Gage is treated for light fumes exposure. At Mayfair, Roy and Johnny crisis debrief all the EMTs about on scene death. Dixie learns about the loss of the iron poisoning boy so she creates a new tradition about celebrating saves in patients to cheer up the whole ambulance company. Chet is coddled into bed when Brice notices his high fatigue level.  
Gage asks his crush, EMT Rosalie out and she accepts.  
Ponch finds out Gage has won the future girl of his dreams and gives her up gracefully. Dixie is comforted by Kel after a hard day at the office. Joe is plagued by a chaotic night in the ER involving dogs. At a morning buffet, Dixie finally gets her answer from Roy and Johnny about her current status as friend and colleague in their eyes. A buffet breakfast at Rampart and a newscast awakens Dixie's and an EMT's instincts about something amiss in the larger scheme of things.  
Dixie's relieved when all Mayfair EMTs report for duty. Station 110 discovers a sudden ugly reality, receding ocean waters.  
The whole L..F.D is mobilized when a tsunami hits their coastline. Mayfair Ambulance's fleet along with Station 51 reports in to a disaster Staging Area near Rampart in Torrance.  
Doctors Brackett, Morton and Early report to Triage as rioting breaks out from shocked evacuees in the surrounding neighborhoods.  
Rampart struggles to take in all critically injured, Mayfair arriving patients.

Part Two

Engine 51 mounts a search and rescue of a beachside hotel for tidal wave victims while fending off looters. Engine 10 and Captain Stone, assists them. A second large tidal wave strikes, effecting Mayfair Ambulance's patient evacuation route. Brice and his two CHiP officer EMTs find themselves on the shattered remains of a toll bridge. Gage's Mayfair ambulance is discovered missing.  
Battalion One assigns a USAR Taskforce to mount a rescue operation. Brice struggles to save a spinal injury victim. USAR discovers signs of a Mayfair crashing off a bridge. Gage resuscitates an EMT while trapped underneath rubble. The two get down to the business of survival without trying to kill one another. A USAR team takes in Roy and Bellingham into direct operations at the site of the bridge collapse. Morton triages Brice, the CHiP officers and their patient. Dixie breaks the news about Gage and the death of an EMT to the rest of the Mayfair Company. Brackett remembers the new biophone all Mayfairs now carry and notifies the Navy to set up a communications buoy to regain lost radio capability in the bay. USAR, Roy and Bob begin operations at the bridge. Communications are re-established out at sea for all the rescuers. Gage prepares to move himself and his EMT patient out of the buried ambulance for fear of a rising lunar tide. They crawl through the wreckage of the bridge to start their escape and discover another injured woman, a military technician who claims a family is trapped in a flooding van behind debris. Johnny treats life threatening symptoms on the woman and then goes after the other victims. He is caught underwater by a piece of falling debris. Roy and Bellingham sneak back to the pile using force. Ponch and Jon are sent back to the bridge by Brice and Dr. Early as eyes and ears when signs of the missing ambulance are discovered. Dixie suffers a flashback and is treated by Craig Brice. Brackett finds out about Dixie being triaged and there's H*ll to pay. A third tidal wave rescues Johnny and a victim from a van. USAR is forced to evacuate the bridge collapse as the new tsunami makes landfall. Sharon Walters deals with a riot at Rampart. Gage's Mayfair is found washed onto the beach and empty and the smashed toll bridge disappears beneath the waves. USAR orders a Coast Guard chopper to map out the sunken bridge and hollow caisson tower bases. Rampart is rescued from the mob by three CHiPs officers and Vince. CHiPs Ponch and Jon summon beach lifeguards to aid in the search. Dixie awakens from her rest break and returns herself back on duty as Mayfair's manager. USAR detects five heat signatures beneath a collapsed caisson in the middle of the bay along with a bloody blanket from the Mayfair ambulance's medical gear. Dixie checks up on Sharon Walters at Rampart. Divers find a way into the caisson. Gage has his hands full with a willful EMT patient. Engine 51 lands on the caisson with help from Baywatch lifeguards. Johnny learns about his new disease from a wise old lady, it's true love. USAR finds a hole leading to signs of survivors after a dive. Gage rehydrates his patients with I.V.s. USAR locates a panicking female child in the rubble and sedate her. Other sounds of victims are discovered. Ponch and Jon reconstruct water forces to pinpoint a probable search area for Gage and Rosalie's trapped location. Bellingham flies out the little girl from the rubble while Desoto and Brice discover three more victims. Dixie takes a Battalion Chief enforced breather and visits Sharon Walters at Rampart. Brice and Roy work fast to stabilize three victims they find but lose an unexpected fourth.  
The gang returns to station 51 in the engine for an overnight recuperation from rescue operations. Joe, Morton and Kel find comfort in each other's knowledge during a food break. Roy DeSoto's overworked state is discovered. CHiPs officers meet Battalion at their HQ and become a triage site. Vince Howard is found critically ill of an infected cut. Johnny and Rosalie set off exploring their surroundings when one of their patients dies. Dixie orders her Mayfair EMTs to body detail at search and rescue sites. Dixie visits Vince in ICU and works her calming magic. Ponch and Jon get a lightbulb idea to use Henry as a search dog.  
Roy finds out about the plan. Chet alerts USAR when Henry finds a scent.  
Johnny Gage heads back to the core chamber for medical gear when Rosalie develops cardiac tamponade. Henry discovers Gage's scent coming out of a crack in the collapsed freeway and USAR pulls out all of the stops to unbury the site. Roy, Brice and Bellingham are assigned there on medical standby. Henry is given an I.V. to rehydrate him. Three victims Johnny treated are found by Roy and Brice. An EMT with Johnny is killed, devastating Gage and making him give up the will to live when a cave-in occurs. Henry finds another hole leading to Johnny. Ponch enters and it's a race to free him before the rising tide fills the chamber. Brackett saves the day when Johnny slips into cardiac arrest due to drowning. Roy and Johnny deal with post traumatic effects due to the bridge collapse but are healed somewhat at the rising of a new one. .

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The Story Unfolds...

Season Eight, Movie Two En Route Debut Launch: June 25th, 2010.

En Route, Movie Two

:) This episode is dedicated to the families of the 35W Minneapolis bridge collapse :)  
of August 1st, 2007 and the rescuers who tried to save victims trapped there. :) Tribute memorial: Julia Blackhawk . :)

************************************************************  
by staff writer, Patti Keiper MN-EMT-B

************************************************************  
Subject: The Coffee Chat.. From: patti k ()  
Sent:Fri 6/25/10 2:50 AM

The glass enclosed peace of the paramedic base station room was pure bliss.  
::And I don't even have to go on vacation to get it.:: sighed Dixie McCall in relief, as she changed the recording cassettes between radio electrocardio gram receivers deftly to get them ready for the next rescue call.

It was Thursday. The last day of Dixie's self scheduled week before her off duty weekend began. ::Yeah, but what's so special about it?::  
she mused. ::Kel's working. And everybody else is scheduled double shifts. Including Joe and Mike.::

Dixie leaned on the counter top and drew the station I.D. magnets back to their starting places on the status board over her head. "And it's not even busy." she said, sipping her cup of coffee.

She eyed her abandoned desk through the window, feeling almost guilty for not attending the phones another nurse hastened to answer from Resupply that she knew had been coming. ::I hate inventory. Why should I have to be the one to do that chore every month?:: she protested mentally, mildly.

McCall made sure she threw Carol a grateful look while she did a few graceful arm and leg stretches, using the countertop in front of her. She held up five fingers. ::That's how long I'll be in here.:: she decided. ::Not five minutes, five days.:: she groaned in her thoughts. ::Am I growing jaded? Seems like I'm only happy now when Rampart's hotter case wise than a rat's nest and the staff's turning themselves into basket cases..:: she chuckled. ::Including me.::

She startled when a voice behind her issued a statement. "Is that healthy?"

Dixie whirled, surprised out of her brain fog's weariness. "Oh, Joe.  
You scared me. I didn't even hear you open the door."

Early apologized with a duck of his head and eyed up her coffee mug again.

McCall just looked at him, amazement on her face at his intuitiveness,  
when it dawned. "Oh, oh, oh.. You meant this. Sure. Here." she said, giving up the caffeine she knew she didn't need, to him. "I thought you meant the state of my mind today."

"Nope, although I'll confess to the state of my stomach's."  
Joe joined her by sitting on the counter top at her side while he drank her coffee in one long draught. "Ah, that tastes good."

"Always does." Dixie shrugged in dry amusement. "Almost too much.  
Slap my hand if I reach for the pot again."

"Deal." he agreed wholeheartedly. "And I'll add in a free blood pressure check."

"What? On me? Why?"

"Your face is flushed again." he told her, seriously.

"That's a hot flash." she grumbled, not amused.

"Oh. Sorry. I didn't know about your new Change." Early pouted.

"Don't I wish I could change." Dixie simpered, on a completely different topic. "I mean, is that what I really want?"

"I don't know. You tell me." Early said, easily slipping into Freudian mode as the friend who knew his nurse better than himself.

"Joe, is my career going stale?" she asked him. "I mean. It's not burn out. That I would know. I've seen it in others." she self analyzed.

Joe just let her talk. Gravely, he nodded sagely, agreeing with her self diagnosis."No way in h*ll."

Dixie took that as encouragement even though she was only half paying attention to him, lost in self doubt and part amusement.  
"Then why can't I enjoy myself away from this place?" she pegged as she finally identified the nagging little irk that had been bugging the back of her mind over the last ten minutes.

"Hmm." Joe grunted, eyeing up a chart Dixie had yet to transcribe into nurse notes for his perusal. "I've been there." he shared. "What you need,  
is to find a new angle on the old block."

Dixie's face fell. "Yeah? And how am I gonna do that? I'm the head of the head of the.."

"..whole ER shabang. I know. That's because you were never ever a fan of being a desk jockey for administration." Joe said, his eyes twinkling. "Why don't you ask around and see what others think about you doing your job to get some true feelers about your current.., and it is imagined,  
angst?"

Dixie looked up at Joe with not amused daggers, but waxed reluctant when she began thinking about her usual company of coworkers."Well, I don't know about-"

"I'm not talking about them. They're just other nurses." Early pointed out expansively. "And I'm just a doctor. Why don't you reach a little further out to try for fresh eyes about you, on their perspective?"

"Who? I don't see anybody else while at work, Joe." Dixie harrumphed in frustration.

"Yes, you do. And they're not wearing hospital white." With that, Early made his exit, softly leaving Dixie's refilled mug back in its usual hidden place behind the EKG machine after kissing the top of her head affectionately in a playful peck.

Dixie's expression turned ironic as the door closed, returning her solitude to cool, muffled silence. "Paramedics?" she finally said out loud.

Photo: Dixie leaning on the counter in the glass enclosed paramedic base station.

Photo: Dixie and Joe chatting over a chart in the hallway.

Photo: Dixie's fire department training nurse patch.

**************************************************  
Subject: Hormones..  
From: patti k ()  
Sent:Wed 6/30/10 12:24 PM

McCall sighed softly, regretting the seconds ticking by on her wrist watch.  
"Can they be cool appraisers of me?" she wondered. "I'm a head nurse, the one who trained most of them." she said to herself. She eyed up Roy and Johnny, who were standing most of the way down the hallway after turning over their non critical patient that they had finished transporting from one hospital to another, to orderlies. "Oh,...Maybe later." Dixie decided, shaking her head suddenly.

When one of them happened to glance in her direction, she hid her upper body behind the EKG machine in a fake check of its cables, to escape detection. McCall groaned, thinking again. ::Just look at me. I'm a mess.  
I'm actually hiding out on people.:: Angry at her own timidity in distress,  
she grabbed the bull by both horns. She straightened, shoved her coffee mug neatly away from her questing fingers, and exited the communications alcove. "Thanks, Carol. I'm back."

"How is your back?" asked Evans. "You did some stretches that would certainly break mine if I tried them." she said with a grin, biting on a pen with a grimace.

Dixie chuckled."It's fine. I'm probably the one who's not." she remarked, sitting dully onto the desk stool.

"What's wrong?" asked Carol as she suddenly took alarm and grabbed for the pulse point in McCall's wrist. "You are kinda red. Do you have a headache?"

Dix snatched away her arm in boredom. "Oh, stop. I'm not sick. Those are hormones acting up. Or... I mean... probably the lack of them anyway."

Carol immediate understood. "Oh. I see. I hope you brought a ton of uniforms, Dix. When I went through my first months of menopause, I drenched one every few hours at even the barest thought of physical activity. What were you doing anyway to set this one off?" she asked about Dixie's current hot flash.

"Drinking coffee." she said guiltily.

Carol whacked her arm with her chart. "Shame on you. Didn't Joe read you the riot act about that?"

"No. He just found out my new condition a few minutes ago." Dixie snapped, lightly defensive.

A passing new student nurse walked by, overhearing and misinterpreting. "Congratulations!" she said brightly.

"Not that." Dixie shouted back at her. "Do I look like I could have a baby?"

The younger nurse in blue scuttled away, embarrassed, hugging her blood draw samples basket.

"Down, girl. Easy.." Carol chided. "Wow, you are messed up today." Then she found the track of the conversation again. "Good for Dr. Early then. Now he can join me in keeping you away from the stuff." Carol said as she sniffed, no nonsense.

"I did tell him to do that." McCall said dutifully, surprised at the wild swing of emotion that just had its evil hold of her with the student nurse. "My mug's still in there."

Carol dipped her head to distract her."Sign that, Miss Hyde. This is 51's organ transplant recipient they just brought in for the floors. She had intravenous lines so they needed paramedics to move her."

"How's she doing? I haven't read in that far yet." Dixie asked, burying her face in the chart to hide her embarrassment at her current mood. "Naomi Wilder. Age twenty."

"Her spirits are up. Bless her soul. But her counts are, too." Carol frowned sympathetically.

"Then isn't it great that she's here to get a new kidney?" Dixie asked,  
reading the data, refusing to be negative about a patient even while she was being negative about herself.

"If we can find one that matches in time." Carol said quietly.

"The dialysis will buy her time." Dixie smiled, trying to feel it.

"That new fangled machine?" Carol grumphed. "I don't trust it, Dix. I mean,  
how can you sterilize the inside of a block of steel that size? I know I wouldn't want my blood circulating inside of it and returning back to my veins through it anytime soon."

McCall just nodded that she was listening, but her brain was far away. "It's all experimental, but so's our heart lung machine for bypasses."

Carol shuddered. "I knew our hospital was a bit Frankensteinian. But all this sudden new invasive technique technology coming in so fast, takes the cake."

Dixie rubbed Carol's arm warmly, to smooth down the goose pimples. "You said that about rewarming hypothermia cases in pulseless reservoir drownings. And look at our survival rates for kids in those." she remarked, happy.

"Yeah. We do save a lot. Maybe that'll be how all the kidney and heart cases will turn out, too. Thanks, hon. My heebie jeebies are gone." she said squeezing Dixie's hand in gratitude. Then she chuckled. "Maybe I'm just too old school. But I tell ya, they'll be writing me off soon, Dix. I can feel it." Carol groused, partly in joke, she said, turning to the phone to get an orderly to take Naomi's admission chart up to the floors with her.

Something about that statement struck home deep inside of Dixie, and she frowned, disturbed. ::Am I doing that to myself?:: she thought in horror. Then she looked back at Roy and Johnny, lost in their conversation by the x-ray machine near the nurse's lounge. ::Maybe I.. should.. talk to them.:: McCall reconsidered. ::But when's the best time? I only see them when I'm on duty.::

"What a sweet young lady, Roy." Gage laughed, as he waved at Naomi as the orderlies took her into the elevator. "She made me smile the whole way in."

"Yeah, she reminds me of my daughter a whole lot." DeSoto grinned, folding his arms around the I.V. resupply box he was holding.

"Roy." said Johnny. "Your daughter's twelve." he insisted, firmly.

"Yeah, but I can see a strong resemblance anyway." he said right back, just as firm. "Maybe one day if you ever have kids you'll understand how I'm able to do that."

"Don't rush me. I'm still trying to get past the dating chore." Gage groused.

"Since when is spending time with the opposite sex, a chore?" Roy asked,  
amused.

"Since last week, Roy. I can't stop thinking about her." he said, suddenly mad that what was bothering him had finally been pegged.

"Oh yeah? Where'd you meet her?" Roy asked, suddenly interested.

"At work." Johnny said reluctantly, fiddling with his green pen's clicker that was parked in his shirt pocket. "And never mind. It's none of your business." Gage barked. "I can handle it."

"It's Rosalie Arnold. Isn't it? That new EMT from Mayfair Ambulance?"

"So..." Gage fired back. "What's it to ya?"

"Oh, nothing. But ever since last week, when she showed up at one of our rescue calls in a pick-up, you've been doing nothing else but thinking about her."

"Thinking about her? Roy, I'm a professional. I don't date out of my own level. It,  
would be.. awkward. I'm a paramedic, she's an EMT."

"That doesn't stop you from trying to ask out the nurses." Roy grinned. "Aren't they a little out of your league, too?" he teased. "They have what? Two years more training then we do?"

Johnny squared his jaw, biting down in irritation as he bent over to get a drink from the water fountain in the wall. He sipped only once before his head came up.  
"Roy, that's not the same thing."

"Oh, isn't it?" DeSoto pounced. "A nice, friendly pleasant woman is a nice friendly pleasant woman, regardless of what her career is. Just look at Dixie and Kel. They've been going steady for years now as doctor and a nurse."

"Yeah? But they're not married. Now what's wrong with that picture?" Johnny said, waggling his hand in the air in front of him. "Could it possibly be the career level difference getting in the way?"

Roy's mouth just flopped open. "You're crazy. You're- you're absolutely nuts. You think I'd've figured that out about you by now, after six years. But I guess I'm just a hopeless raging optimist about the finer side of your probable integrity."

"Huh?" Gage blinked.

"Oh boy." Roy shifted onto the other foot irritatedly. "I'm talking about Rosalie. You like her, right? So why not ask her out?"

"She's female, Roy." Gage insisted. "I don't mean that- that's the problem.. That's perfect actually. I-I mean, It's just that she's only sort of my line of work." he said, with difficult articulation, but pleased at his explanation.

Roy just looked at him and gestured an I-said-that-already hand at him and at all the nurses carefully ignoring Johnny's flirting grins as they bustled around them.

"Oh, never mind. You'll never understand where I'm coming from." Gage snapped.

"I'm trying to. Believe me, I'm trying to." Roy shared, scratching his head. "And I'm not gonna give up because I'll go absolutely stir crazy if I don't figure you out someday."

"Just forget my love life. All right? Let's just go, or we'll be late for our monthly A-shift meeting." Johnny groused, snatching the box from Roy's hands and trading it for the squad keys. "You drive back to the station. I don't feel like it today."

"You never feel like it. Why do you think I drive all the time?" Roy glared back.

Photo: Nurse Carol in a close up.

Photo: Dixie long haired in closeup.

Photo: Roy and Johnny at the ambulance entrance, talking.

Photo: A Mayfair ambulance, at Rampart.

**************************************************  
Subject: P's and Cues..  
From: patti k ()  
Sent:Thu 7/01/10 2:43 AM

"Okay. Coffee's on. Check." said Cap as he crossed off items on his list as the gang sat all round the kitchen table back at Station 51.  
"All the donuts are being inhaled.." he glanced up. "Correction. They're gone. Thanks for leaving just the crumbs." he said with arched eyebrows,  
while he peered myopically at his list.

"You snooze.." Gage started.

"You lose.." Chet crowed as he and Johnny high fived each other at their craftiness in emptying a plate so fast. "And I got the last bite." Kelly celebrated.

"Yeah?" said Hank. "Well, I'm bigger than you are so watch your knuckles really close next time." and Cap slapped the flat of a butter knife down onto the table top with a sharp crack only inches away from Kelly's other hand. It made the rest of the gang literally jump in startlement.

"...we're still hungry?" moused Marco as a weak excuse.

Cap just glared. "You know it's share-sies on any station bought food.  
I don't care about myself but it's always DOGS FIRST. Just look at him!"  
thundered Hank, pointing an accusatory finger at a pathetically dewy and sad eyed Henry, the basset hound. "Now he's sitting at that really rare for him,  
absolute attention pose, all for nothing. Stoker, go grab him a slice of Kelly's deli bacon outta the frig to cover the lack."

"Aw, Cap. That stuff's expensive!" protested Chet. "I can only get it-"

"Aw, Cap, nothing! He's our beloved adopted mascot for Pete's sake.  
And you know the rules. Last dibbles..."

Kelly grumbled down into a croak. "...are kibbles." finished Chet morosely.

"Dmn straight." roared Cap. "I'd rather a paunch on him, than on me.  
And tonight, you're the guilty one. So you're coughing up!"

Woof! said Henry.

The gang was struck silent in slight fear of a formal reprimand.

Cap sucked in a huge cleansing breath to get his blood pressure back down. Then he neatly stacked his meeting itinerary notes in front of him deftly. "Now, that aside, let's get the first points of order, out of the way." said Hank airily, totally pleasant and mild.

"Being late.." offered Chet.  
"More spit and polish.." said Marco.  
"And another CPR drill with a manikin." volunteered Stoker.

Hank's eyes bugged out. "Well, uh, yeah. How'd all you guys know?" he asked with genuine amazement.

All five pairs of the gangs' eyes flickered towards the sheaf of papers in Cap's hands.

Hank protectively hugged his notes to his chest unconsciously. "Are you guys sneaking into the office again? Because I'm telling you, if I catch even one finger touching my brand new desk phone, I'll-"

Kelly started guffawing with huge amusement. "No, Cap. We just read your brain cells, man."

Cap broke off his tirade. "Huh?"

Marco reiterated. "For the last six months at all these meetings of ours, you always start with the same three things for us to think about or do."

"Yeah." said Chet. "And only one of us is still being chronically late."

"Hey!" Gage complained. "I am not."

Hank just rolled his eyes. "Gage, the time clock never lies. It's true. Just look at your paycheck hours sometime. They're off usually by ten minutes each week."

"Oh. Sorry."

"And that's what Gage always says." moaned Marco. "Look, can we just get on with it and then through the fake heart attack exercise? We might get a run soon."

"Geez, fellas. I thought we were all pals here." Cap said. "Why are you chewing on this meeting like a pack of starving dogs?"

"Maybe because we are starving dogs. Just look at our salaries on the regular firefighter rate once, Cap." Kelly joked. "We may be getting paid to sit here and go over done-to-death policies and procedures, but that doesn't mean we have to like it."

Cap blinked.  
"Oh. Okay. I guess I can be even more brief than the usual three minutes of meeting time for the month. I have one more point of order." Cap said dryly, not taking offense. "Gage. DeSoto. Effective immediately by order of Chief McConnike. Starting July 1st, you hearby have to start serving sixty four hundred hours of work time over the rest of the summer season, at your choice of a local ambulance service, to train EMTs."

"What?" sputtered Gage.

Cap just shrugged. "It's all part of a new cooperative being crafted between all the local fire departments, us, and all the private ambulance companies, the other guys, who will soon be legally consolidated under Los Angeles County policies regarding licensure, rules of practice and procedures. The chief tried taking volunteers last month from the current county paramedic pool to become part of their team of associate supervisor advisors, but he got no takers. So he decided to grab up all the day shift medics he could get his hands on, to fill up the rest of the mayor's governor-approved program. It's being called the Bus Project, by the way."

"How apt." Roy groaned.

"Can he even do that?" Johnny asked, his mouth still flopped open in shock.

"Yep. Under something called a priority mandate. Ambulances are a critical city service and must be provided in full to the entire population, by law. So consider yourselves recruited."

"Hopefully with the same pay." Roy butted in. "I've got kids to feed."

Cap held up a wait finger and kept talking as he read his memo. "Accustomed paramedic assignments will be preserved inside all effected ambulance companies to help the new, and I quote, streamlined, process along. So I went ahead and offered up the two of you as the chief's first pair at the head of the line."

"Cap. I-" Gage waggled his head, sputtering. "I'm speechless."

"That's a first." Chet quipped.

Gage didn't even hear him.  
"Why'd ya do it, Cap?" Johnny asked. "You could've held out, letting other pairs go first, until fall at least. Then Roy's kids would've been in school most of the day and out of the house."

Hank didn't even stiffen. He turned all captain and glared. "It's because I owe McConnike for burning his hat, if you must know."

"Oh, so we pay the price?" Johnny scoffed, part serious.

Roy spoke up. "He's speaking for himself, Cap."

"Is that a hint of insubordination I hear, Fireman Gage?" Cap shot back, equally in only half jest.

Johnny bellied up. "No, uh. No, Cap. I uh-"

"Good. Cause it's a done deal. And no, you aren't gonna be shorted any pay.  
If anything, you both are gonna have easier shifts assigned than you do now; no fires, hard rescues, or safety checks. You'll be paid a captain's wage. It's part of a temporary promotion that you'll need in order to teach all of the new ambulance employees."

"That's a lot of bling." Kelly gaped. "Heya, Cap. Does that mean that Roy and Johnny can quit having to salute you this summer during a chief's visit while in an inspection line?"

The three of them ignored him.

"Cap, what happened to all of the old ones?" Roy asked.

Hank was matter of fact.  
"They quit. They heard there wasn't going to be a union any more because their bosses were going to contract with the County. They didn't hang around long enough for the memo which explained that they weren't going to lose any of their benefits." Hank said, angling his head.

"So what are they using now for workers? We just had an ambulance call this afternoon." Johnny asked.

"Corpsmen from the army." Cap said. "Technically, they qualify. But they'll be here in town, helping out, only long enough for you guys to fully train in all the EMTs the County needs."

"I thought something funny was going on." DeSoto remarked.

"What was funny? I thought they were actually pretty good. They didn't drop our patient going down that warped fire escape of hers." Johnny chuckled.

"Their shoes were polished and they both had crewcuts." Roy sighed.

"Oh. No sneakers and Beatles' hair doos?" Gage wondered.

"Nope." Roy told him.

"Must have missed that." Gage puzzled, picking at a salt shaker.

"Naomi was very pretty." Roy drawled, grinning. "And I'm a married man."

"I told you, I don't date EMTs. Or patients." Gage hissed defensively.

"You did once. Remember Valerie?" Kelly dangled.

Johnny broke off his denial and mumbled. "She didn't count. She-"

Cap started smiling.  
"Sure she did. You treated her for being hit by that car and then you two started going out right afterwards, from my perspective."

"You know about that?" Johnny paled.

"Yep." Hank nodded. "But you both were adults back then. So I stayed out of it." he shrugged.

Gage was thoroughly gagged, mortified.

Kelly ran with it. "Valerie was a bust with those nasty kids of hers so you're off the morality hook, Johnny. Relax."

"Speaking of "Relax". It's three minutes and one second. Meeting adjourned."  
Lopez chipped in. "I'll be the one to fake cardiac arrest so we can get that whole bit over with. Ready?" and he flopped over sideways in his chair.

Clunk!

Marco hit the floor with his head and shoulder. "Ouch! Why didn't you catch me, you guys?"

Kelly looked at his watch. "My watch is still running slow. And so's theirs."  
he looked at it. "Three, two, one. Now, it's been three minutes." he joked.  
"Marco, you moved too soon."

Johnny and Roy chuckled as they rose from their seats to go grab the manikin for the actual compressions and defibrillating phase.

Chet knelt down on the tiles where Marco sprawled, still rubbing his head.  
"Okay, pal. You're not injured so lay back and we'll get started." He wiped his face into a professional care giver's mode. "Hey, can you hear me, sir?"  
he said, digging a pair of knuckles into Marco's breastbone.

"Ow!" Lopez twitched, shoving Kelly's hands away.

"You're unconscious, man. Act the part." Kelly told him. "It was your idea."

"I see nothing." said Cap, "I'm cooking over there on the stove." he said,  
covering his eyes in a play act so he wouldn't mess up their timing of the scenario.

Lopez glared at Chet then went into an exaggerated limpness, on his back.

"Cap! Man down." Kelly said loudly.

"Is he conscious?" Hank said, finally playing his part right.

"No. Not reacting to pain at all." Kelly shared, doing his part of opening Marco's airway like he would on a real victim.

"Guys, go grab the gear. I'll help Kelly out." Cap ordered.

"I'll call it in." Stoker offered, playing another role. He ran to the radio alcove in the bay. "L.A., Station 51. This is an exercise."

##Station 51. L.A.## replied Sam Lanier the dispatcher. ##Go ahead.##

"Still alarm. One male. Unconscious. Probable medical. This is an exercise."  
repeated Mike for the audio logs.

##Responding one ambulance to your location. Time out : 14: 46. They report an ETA of four minutes. I acknowledge your exercise.##

"10-4. KMG 365. This is an exercise." Mike concluded. Then he hung up the mic onto its spigot and ran for the oxygen apparatus from the closet that was full of only room air and a training ambu bag.

Roy and Johnny beat him back through the door with the training manikin slung between them while Cap hustled past them for the real defib and EKG unit.  
"No pulse." he told them. "He's still got a clear airway."

"Got it." Roy and Johnny nodded, now knowing what the exercise was going to be medical wise.

They slammed the manikin down on the ground next to Marco, in the same pose, for the next phase. Kelly scooted over from where he was faking mouth to mouth breaths on Marco. He leaned over and gave a double set of breaths to the training doll before starting in on rapid fast chest compressions for one man CPR.

Lopez got up from the floor, ignoring his unbuttoned shirt, and sat on the couch to watch the rest of the drill from the sidelines. He smiled as Henry started to half bark at all of the excitement going on in front of him. "Geez, Henry. We do this every month. You should be used to it already, you crazy mutt."

Gage reached over and felt the manikin's neck. "I've got good compressions, Chet.  
I can feel a pulse with em." he reported. "When did he go down? Did you see the time?"

"14: 45. It's marked on that napkin by his head." Kelly pointed out, keeping up his CPR.

"Got it." Gage said, snatching it up for his notes.

Cap returned with the real Datascope and monitor, and with the fake drug and I.V. boxes that were only filled with water from the training closet. "Kelly, set up his leads when Roy's ready."

"Yes, sir."

"Okay, go do it." DeSoto said, knocking Chet's hands out of the way, taking over.  
Roy delivered compressions and breaths that were proper without missing a beat,  
working on the rubber man.

Stoker set the training oxygen apparatus and real biophone down onto the floor next to Gage and DeSoto. He opened and set up the receiver and antennae.  
"Okay. Biophone on." he reported.

Cap took over Roy's ventilations with a flowing ambu bag after setting it up. He used an oral airway on the manikin that he had measured for size, jawline to ear lobe,  
quickly, in between breaths. "Short airway's in, all. Mouth's still clear."

Gage leaned over the manikin, listening with a stethoscope. "I've got good breath sounds. No gurgling over the stomach." he shared, listening in multiple places. "Not gonna be a vomiter."

Kelly hurried in his assigned task. "Leads are on, RA, RL, LL, LA. And..  
set.." he said pushing the EKG monitor button on. The green diode cursor began to glow on its screen.

Cap announced what he was told to say for the scenario from his meeting memo.  
"Ventricular tachycardia. Pulseless."

Gage nodded, pretending that rhythm was what he saw on the monitor. "V-tach,  
Roy." he reached up to the manikin's neck to feel the plastic tube there that served as a carotid artery. "Hold off a sec."

Roy froze where he had his hands positioned for chest compressions over the manikin's chest.

"No pulse." Johnny confirmed. "Continue CPR." Then he punched the Datascope's power up button. "Charging. One hundred, two hundred,  
three hundred..."

Roy started in again as a chest compressor.

Nearby, Stoker had opened communications with the hospital."Rampart this is Station 51. How do you read? This is an exercise."

##We read you loud and clear, 51.## Dixie replied over the airwaves. ##I copy your exercise at 14: 48. Mark.## she said, clicking on a special fire department recording tape. ##What is your still alarm, 51?##

"Rampart we have a witnessed cardiac arrest in a male age 27. No airway obstruction. CPR is in progress with fifteen liters of oxygen by bag. EKG telemetry has been established." Mike said.

"Okay,.. Four hundred watt seconds. Hook him up to the radio, Kelly." Gage glanced at Mike. "When he's done, gimme the phone."

Soon, Stoker handed over the black receiver.

"Rampart we show and have confirmed pulseless V-Tach. Ready to countershock four hundred watt seconds. This will be on Lead II." Johnny reported. "Hand me the paddles, Chet, after you gel them up."

"All right." Kelly said, hurrying quickly. He started rubbing them together to spread the conductive paste evenly over the shocking surfaces.

##10-4, 51.## Dixie flipped a switch, and started receiving the manikin's I.D.  
trace. It showed Roy's effective CPR signature. ##CPR is adequate.##

"There you go, Gage. They're ready." Chet said, passing over the defib electrodes.

"Clear!" Gage said, ordering Cap and Roy away from the manikin's form.  
He pressed down the paddles in a shock frame on the manikin's skin and delivered the first jolt.

Chet looked at his watch. "Time. 14:49 and 23." he told everyone.

Hank shared what he was told to say for the exercise from the memo.  
"Sinus rhythm. Rate of 44. Spontaneous breathing."

Dixie saw the Datascope deliver a full energy shock on her strip in a sharp dip of the electronic tracer. ##Shock confirmed. What do you have, 51?## she said into the intercom.

Gage told her. "Recaptured. NSR of 44. He's breathing on his own."

##10-4, uh... ## she said, reading through her own memo of this month's exercise for Station 51 for the doctor's treatment to prescribe. ##Start an I.V. of Normal Saline wide open with a Lidocaine Drip. Titrate until you get a rate of at least seventy. Continue monitoring vitals every five minutes and maintain oxygen. Treat for shock. Recontact us en route if there are any further changes. We'll have a room waiting for you.##

Cap winked as he looked up at Mike. "Let's save some time, shall we?  
Go grab a stokes. We'll meet the ambulance in the driveway with him."

"Isn't that cheating, Cap?" Kelly chuckled as Roy and Johnny continued their treatment steps of setting up an I.V.

Hank grinned broadly.  
"Nope. It's called using your noggin. The chief says he likes a little ingenuity.  
So I'm just giving him some for our drill here." Then he looked up at Lopez.  
"Marco? Park yourself back down here." he said, patting the floor. At the same time, he shoved the manikin out of the way with a foot once Gage peeled off the EKG electrode stickers from its chest.

Barking, Henry leaped down from the couch and started accosting one of its legs in a playful bite and head shake.

The gang laughed.

Lopez repositioned himself where the manikin used to be and let Cap put on a flowing oxygen mask that was just air over his nose and mouth. "Make sure you get my left arm. That's got a good vein."

Roy grinned evilly. "Is he awake, Cap?"

"Nope." said Hank, double checking the memo on the table.

DeSoto leaned down. "Shut up, Marco. You can't talk."

Lopez made a face and closed his eyes. He didn't even flinch when Gage started an antecubital line of sterilized water and taped it off.

Chet leaned into Johnny. "Turn it wide open. That way he'll have to pee real bad before he gets to Rampart. It'll challenge the EMTs a little." he whispered.

Gage grinned back. "She did say wide open." he tsk'd, making it so.  
Then he added even more water by piggy backing the fake Lidocaine bag and labelling it with a mock orange sticker with the time it had been started. "Gushing BOTH in at 14:52." he reported.

Cap was oblivious. "Oh, we got a gag reflex!" he said, flipping the oral airway he had palmed into his hand at the manikin for human switch into the air to simulate pulling it out of Marco's mouth. It landed on Lopez's bare stomach. Roy just rolled his eyes and stuffed it into Marco's shirt pocket for safe keeping.

Gage wasn't about to fall for an exercise complication. "Did he puke?"

Cap made a show of lifting up Marco's face mask and peering in with the penlight Johnny offered to him. "Uh...nope. Just needs a lot of mouthwash."

"Hey.." said their patient. "So I love onions. Big deal."

"Either that or Chet does." Gage giggled.

"Shhh!" hissed Hank, fighting laughter. "I think I hear the ambulance coming.  
Let's get him lifted into the stokes. One, Two..Lift!" he said, shaving off another second.

The gang dropped him into the stokes hastily and dumped the EKG monitor,  
open defib and a hastily thrown blanket onto his legs as they four man carried him swiftly out the kitchen door. Chet trailed after them with the air only apparatus and a couple of water I.V.s.

Henry just held onto a loose, dangling stokes strap and tried to slow them all down.

Out in the sunlight, Marco was forced to play his part. Cap was nice and held up his hand to shadow the bright light away from his eyes while he laid there in the stokes surrounded by the others on the pavement. "Are they here yet?"  
Lopez wondered. "Man, I'm really starting to have to go. Cap, do you think I have time to get up and use the urinal real quick?"

Hank frowned. "Guys, are you pulling a fast one on him?"

"Shhh! Here they come!" Kelly hissed, flagging them down. "It's a Mayfair."  
he hinted strongly at Johnny as soon as the rushing Code Three ambulance turned the corner and onto their boulevard.

Mike Stoker hoofed it out onto the street to direct traffic so they could park perpendicular to unload their stretcher. "And looky there. They're both girls." he shared loudly.

Marco almost sat bolt upright in horror as his bladder continued to voice its rising rebellion. "Cap.." he whined without moving.

"Hush, I'll figure out a way to fix this." Hank promised, snapping the fake oxygen mask back onto Marco's face. He thought fast and then retreated into the bay swiftly for a few seconds to retrieve something from a storage locker.

Then he jogged back just as the ambulance had finished backing up into loading position. "Marco. Here." he said, pulling up the blanket to the man's chin. He shoved a small, red nozzled, plastic can into Lopez's hidden hands.

"What?" Lopez said through the oxygen mask, keeping still and eyes tightened to stay in his role.

"Just get it done!" Cap said, standing up again and leaving him alone. He moved to hide movement from the EMTs who were naturally curious about their new patient. "I'm Captain Stanley. One of our firefighters went into cardiac arrest..." he began in explanation.

"He will soon for real, won't he?" Chet sniggered at Roy.

DeSoto had the joke on Marco figured out. "You guys are pure evil." he hissed,  
starting to glance back over his shoulder.

Cap's hook like grip on his shoulder made him freeze into place before he did. "Isn't that so, DeSoto?" Hank prompted smoothly.

"Uh, yeah. Started breathing on his own right afterwards." Roy improvised.

"Oh, okay." said one of the EMTs. "Any airway trouble?" she asked opening the rear door of the Mayfair. Her partner turned to help her.

At that moment, Marco had finished his business and chucked out the gas can from under the blanket and quickly went zombie quiet again. It landed on the lawn and rapidly emptied, safely out of eye shot.

Kelly noticed. "Dmn. Cap helped him out." he grimaced at Gage.

But Henry eagerly chased after it thinking the whole deal was a game of fetch.  
He grabbed onto the gas can and began to lug it back.

"Can't win em all." Johnny chuckled. "We're gonna pay for this one you know,  
with our hides."

"Yeah? But it was so worth it." Kelly said, watching one of the lady EMTs feel Marco's neck for a pre-transport pulse quality check. "And it's not over yet. You better let me know how it turns out."

"Nah, I'm done." Johnny whispered, his humor dying.

"You owe me." Chet pegged, pointing at him as he jogged away to help Stoker block traffic again.

"I'll follow you in." Roy told Johnny, staying out of the prank deliberately and tossing a thumb over his shoulder at the squad.

"Okay." Gage said, still grinning. "Man, I'm happy you're still alive, Marco.  
Just keep hanging in there." he quipped, patting his pal's head after they had lifted him from the stokes onto the gurney and had strapped him in.

"I'mgonnakillyou." Marco coughed-talked through the oxygen mask.

"What was that?" the other girl EMT asked, looking down.

"Nothing." Johnny told her. "He.. just had an airway pulled out while we were inside."

"I'll get the suction ready." she replied, looking suspiciously at both of them.

Soon, they were loaded up.

Cap got back on the biophone he had been carrying. He had reconnected it up to Marco's live cardiac leads. "Station 51 to Rampart, ambulance is here and we're transporting in less than one. Our patient is semi conscious with a gag." he rolled his eyes at the pun she would never get. "This is an exercise."

##10-4, 51. We're standing by.## Dixie replied. ## Showing a heart rate of 136? Try to calm the patient down en route a little.## she advised. ##This marks the end of the first leg of your drill at... 14: 57.##

Kelly and Gage both cracked up laughing hysterically. Johnny almost dropped the biophone he had taken from Hank, to travel with them.

Cap's now angry mood was tempered when he realized he'd just finished the fastest first part exercise completion time of the whole county for the month of June. "Nice work all. See you when you get back for a post mortem report." he said crisply.

The ambulance driver looked down when she felt a nudge at her leg.  
It was Henry, offering her the gas can.

"What's this?" she asked Cap, holding it up.

"Oh. He just wants you to go a little faster I guess." Hank replied, being sensitive about Marco's still urgent and ongoing liquid situation. "I'll just take this back." he said sweetly, tucking it under his arm.

Her face broke out into a wide grin. "Cute dog." she said, climbing into the rig.

Then the Mayfair was gone, full lights and siren, with the squad, likewise lit up like a Christmas tree, chasing behind it.

Photo: The gang in a meeting at the station.

Photo: Gage looking not happy.

Photo: Roy being disturbed by news.

Photo: Henry looking pouty.

Photo: Cap being apologetic.

Photo: Gage and gang treating a downed Marco.

Photo: The gang rushing around a training manikin.

Photo: Bag ventilating a manikin in closeup.

Photo: CPR compressions on a manikin.

Photo: An I.V. drip chamber being squeezed.

Photo: Dixie answering a mock drill call.

Photo: EKG telemetry showing CPR on it.

Photo: Gage looking down treating someone.

Photo: Marco getting oral airway extubated.

Photo: The back doors of an open Mayfair ambulance.

Photo: A Mayfair ambulance rushing ahead of the squad.

Photo: A man on a stokes on a gurney at Rampart with staff.

***************************************************  
Subject: Ready? Set? G-!  
From: patti k ()  
Sent:Thu 7/01/10 1:57 PM

Johnny was still fighting a grin as he played with the EKG monitor still showing Marco's agitated real state when the red haired female EMT riding in the captain's chair spoke. "So tell me again about what his problem is. I'm sure it'll be a first for all the medical journals." she said, taking a BP on Marco's fake limp arm.

"Huh?" Gage asked, snapping out of his mirth to keep in character for the scenario for her benefit. "Oh, uh, what did they tell you?"

She raised an arched eyebrow, reading her notes slowly, with sarcasm. " Said captain- 'One of our firefighters went into cardiac arrest.' Said paramedic partner- 'Started breathing on his own right afterwards.' "

Gage barely choked down a laugh. "They said what? Uh, Never mind.  
What I think they meant was that, uh. He crashed and then we defib'd and THEN he started breathing again."

"Uh huh." she said dryly, pursing her lips in doubt. "Okay. Got it. They were just cutting corners." She reached up and rapped the peek window between her and her driving partner up front in the cab. "Kate, it's a drill, babe. Go ahead and slow down." she said, shooting daggers at him.

The sliding window door opened.  
"Another one?" said a brief brunette pageboy haired head.  
"Okay. Got it. Going in Code Two." And it snicked shut again.

"Hey, you can't do that!" Johnny insisted. "All our steps taken are timed and given to Headquarters for evaluation."

"I don't care if the President himself gets to see your score, Mr. Gage." she said reading his nametag. "I'm not risking our safety, for a fake run." She eyed up Marco's questing fingers that were trying to sneak up the short I.V. pole in an attempt to slow down the raging drip on his I.V. bag. "And this prank of yours, just caps what I've already figured out, about firefighters." she said. She reached down, grabbed Marco's hand, and placed it on the dial that he wanted to turn off.

"Sorry." Marco said, pulling off his oxygen mask. "We were just-"

"I know what you were trying to do, Mr. Lopez. I just wish you station guys would quit trying to ruin all the mocks for us with stupid jokes. I gotta new gal up front who's greener than your face feeling a full bladder! She needs to start racking up calls enough to feel good about her own skills really soon, kapesh? Or I'm gonna lose her when she quits like the last two girls did on hearing the big system overhaul news!"

Marco nodded apologetically. His eyes flickered to the EMT's perfect, sleeve pressed shirt. "We really didn't mean any slight, Ms. Stanton. We were just suffering meetings ad nauseum, each ends in what we feel is an unnecessary drill, that's all."

The girl EMT's curly haired head, bobbed.  
"Oh, nice. Unnecessary, huh? Too bad you're out in the thick of it with all those prime life and death situations that better your own skills and problem solving abilities in less than a month. Too bad you're already set with sharply honed hero instincts. So you feel there isn't anything out there that you can't handle? Wow. That must be really amazing to even just think about. What do we EMTs see each time at the real thing?" she asked, getting bitter. "A patient already figured out, patched up nice and neat, with blood already circulating in some fashion with the good air going in and the bad air going out. One already clean, neat and tidy paramedic package, every time. Where's the challenge in that? So yeah, we actually get excited and live for these drills, because that's when we're actually called to use the skills for which we were trained and are literally supposed to use sometimes. Some of the better fire stations know how to let us really shine." she said accusingly, glaring.

Johnny and Marco were both cowed into speechlessness. "Sorry we wrecked it for you." they finally said. Both of them offered handshakes.

The girl in white swallowed, shook their hands in acceptance one by one and finally smiled. "My name's Liz by the way. Five year EMT and a one year firefighter cadet wash up."

Gage's face immediately fell neutral. "Sorry to hear that. What uh- What happened?"

"They found out I wear hearing aids. Said they'd melt in a fire and that I'd be a liability to a fire crew afterwards for being close to deaf without em so they politely told me that I couldn't graduate.  
I see their point, but sometimes I wish that eye glasses would be outlawed, too, just to make things fair. Most are plastic and can melt just as fast."

"But in smoke we're always blind." Marco reasoned.

"And in a roaring fire, everybody's deaf." Liz countered mildly.  
"I'm not deaf outside of one." she said pointing to her bionics.

"Well, why don't the chiefs realize that?" Marco asked, shaking his head.

"That's what I want to find out." Liz scoffed, only partly amused.

Gage eyed her eagerly, trying to lighten her mood. "I know a few deaf paramedics who are working in the field."

Liz chuckled.  
"Yeah, in a hospital setting. In ICU. That's boring. The patients there are even more neatly packaged then since the surgeons have already gone inside to fix things. What's left there to do skill wise?  
Work a code like a common nurse?"

"I see your point." Johnny told her. "You're not an office girl."

"Nope. Never was. Neither is Kate, nor any of us who're in the ambulance business for that matter." Liz said, proudly.

"So why don't you become a paramedic?" Marco asked.

"Because paramedics aren't ever placed in an ambulance only setting." she said simply. "Only the fire department holds that ace in this day and age."

Gage just looked at her, stunned.

"Whoa, wait. Johnny, that can't be right." Lopez breathed, pulling off the air mask that was still flowing from around his neck.

"It's true. She's right. We aren't in em." Johnny said, with dawning realization. "Now that I think about it."

"And I think they should be." Liz said with passion. "Or else all an ambulance company will ever be, is a glorified meat wagon taxi service. Just one small step above a hearse."

-  
It was a minute later and Johnny's professional side had finally made a comeback. "Listen, we can still salvage this whole day, Liz. Will you let us make things up to you?"

Liz just looked at him. "This drill? How?"

"We can change the rules of the game." Johnny shrugged. "It's already too late for us timer wise. We've got nothing more to lose."

Lopez started chuckling. "Say, yeah. We can break scenario character."

Stanton eyed them up doubtfully, unconvinced.

"Let's do this for Kate, huh?" Gage said encouragingly.

She started a half grin, beginning to bite. "Well, what can we actually do that hasn't already been done? He's not exactly a trauma case." she said throwing a careless gloved hand in Marco's direction.

Gage started wearing a sh*t eating sideways smirk. "Tell me, what would happen if a patient's primary care shifts from a higher skilled level EMS responder to a lower one?" he asked, turning on the suction and draping the Yankauer tube over Marco's blanketed lap.

"That can't ever happen. That's abandonment." Liz frowned.

"Yep." Gage said. "But what if it's not voluntary? You'd be stuck with it,  
right? So let's stick her with it." he said significantly. "We're gonna make your hands too full of a problem to take over. You'll be holding a sick me."

Liz glanced over her shoulder at the closed peek window. "You know, I think this might just work." she chuckled. "Okay, fake a faint and tangle yourself up under the gurney. There's a set of railroad tracks coming up and we can use that as our new emergency. I'll say you hit your head and I'll start hollering after we hit the bump. Ready?"

"But she already knows it's a fake run." Lopez insisted.

"Not if I start to panic a little." Liz shared. "I never panic. It'll catch her off guard."

Johnny nodded, grinning, shoving the biophone out of the way to make room for himself. "Marco, you're the same as before. Stick that mask back on. And turn that IV dial up again to a slow drip. We gotta make this look real for her."

Liz eyed the view out the back window. "Okay, we're almost there."  
she said looking at the Spirit of 76 gas station ball rotating on a street corner where she knew it would be. "Get set.."

Photo: Gage sitting at a daylit window, smiling.

Photo: A red haired woman in a white shirt.

Photo: A row of Mayfair ambulances in a lot.

Photo: Roy DeSoto treating a sick Marco with an ambulance EMT.

Photo: A star of life ambulance sticker on an EMS bus.

Photo: Gage deep in thought on a chair.

Photo: A young page haired brunette, focusing.

Photo: A rushing Code Two Mayfair ambulance.

Photo: A field drug pack, opened, on a fender.

**************************************************  
Subject: One Bang Up Job From: patti k ()  
Sent: Sat 7/10/10 4:16 AM

"One more thought." Johnny said, holding up a finger.

"Better hurry." said Liz, eyeing up some railroad signs they had just passed.

"How do we tip off my partner that our stop isn't real? He's still following behind us in the squad." Gage asked.

"Use your mojo. You guys can communicate nonverbally in subtle ways between each other by now, I hope." she stated simply.

On the ambulance cot, Marco started snickering.

Gage's mouth flopped open, but then it closed again with a click of his teeth when the ambulance suddenly thunked over the expected rail road tracks at the next intersection.

"There's your cue, pal." Lopez told him, flopping limp and back into character.  
"Don't blow it."

Liz threw up her hands silently in an expectant and impatient,"Well?" gesture.

Johnny made a face and dropped to the jammed space between the rider bench and the stretcher. He wormed his head under the cot rail on the floor and made sure his arms were pinned into immobility against the metal. Then he kicked a foot against the side of the ambulance to simulate a skull crack. He cried out in fake startlement, then noodled into stillness.

Liz knelt down into the same small space, grabbed either side of Gage's head as if to stabilize it, and started hollering. "Pull over, Kate! Pull over!  
Problem here!"

"What's wrong? Time for a fake a code?" the younger EMT jokingly asked as she suddenly curbed and tire jammed the Mayfair rapidly by the side of the boulevard. The cab peek window shot open and she made half hearted eye contact with Liz, but with the radio mike already in the other hand.

"Not him! Not that! Get back here. It's the other one. I don't think he was ready for the tracks!" Stanton hollered. She used the new ache in her back to fill her face with a strangled grunt of pain. "I think he's unconscious." she gasped with effort.

"What happened?"

"I don't know. A fall? I heard a crack and then he was down. I didn't see it. I was watching the d*mn*d cardiac monitor."

Kate glanced down and saw Liz's hands stuck in a spinal immobilization move around a very quiet Gage's head. She saw that the stethoscope around his neck had snagged awkwardly on the cot frame and that his upper body was trapped underneath the cot. The smile wiped clean off her face. "Oh,  
sh*t." she said and thumbed the radio mic. "L.A. Mayfair 3. Respond an engine assignment to...Wilmington...and Gilmore. Paramedic with a head injury. No collision involvement." she reported, rushing out of the cab.

##Mayfair 3, L.A. 10- 4. *Beep. Beep. Beep.* L.A., Engine 51. Mayfair 3 reports a first responder fall and injury at the rail road intersection of Wilmington and Gilmore. Wilmington and Gilmore. Squad 51 is already on a follow.##

Hank's puzzled voice came over Gage's radio. "Engine 51, 10-4. KMG-365."

##Time out : 15:07.## confirmed L.A.

Roy was already in full frantic mode. The sudden Mayfair stop he knew, was not in the scenario plans. "Johnny? Marco?" he ran out of the squad and to the rear loading doors of the Mayfair just as the white uniformed Kate got there.

"It's not your firefighter. It's your partner. He fell I think, going over the tracks." Kate told him. "My partner's got his C-spine." she said as they flung open the doors.

DeSoto shouted again as he climbed in. "Johnny? Can you hear me?" He looked down,  
reaching hands under the cot to Gage's stomach in a breathing check. Then he froze, seeing something. Johnny's shoes were off and his ankles were crossed casually together as if he were taking a nap. Gage twitched a big socked toe subtlely.

Roy did a double take. Then he suddenly caught on when Liz didn't look up at him from where she was twisted on the floor between the bench and cot. "No reaction to voice." said Stanton to Kate urgently, tuning him out. Raising a pair of suddenly relieved eyebrows, DeSoto said. "Okay, I'll... get a spine board and collar." he almost grinned. "Uh,,, don't move him yet. I'll be right back!" Then he ran out of sight and began opening squad compartment doors in a big show of hurrying a little.

Kate was small enough to squeeze in under the ambulance cot. "I'll check him out." she said, tense. Her penlight was already in between her teeth. "No blood so far." She groped for Gage's neck around Liz's gripping hands and dug a few fingers in. "Carotid's fine. Color's good. He's still breathing all right around your jaw thrust." she concluded. Then she peeled back Gage's eyelids and used her light. "Pupils... equal and reactive." Then she began to carefully feel around his hair and skull. "No DECAP BTLS." She pinched the skin on Johnny's upper arm. He grunted. "Reactive to pain, Liz."

"So far so good." Liz said. "What next?"

"Get this fireman out of here and off of him." Kate said about Marco on the ambulance cot, squirming backwards and back outside to free herself again.

"Tricky. He's tangled up." Liz grunted, still holding C spine on Johnny with her forehead buried against the mattress of the cot.

"We can't wait for the engine crew, this man's status is abnormal." she said about Gage.

"How's Marco?" Liz asked.

Kate glanced up and saw worry there in Lopez's face. "Did you hurt yourself any, too?"

"No. I.. I'm fine. What the h*ll happened?"

Kate took in a deep breath and reached over Marco's stomach for an oxygen line and a fresh mask from a wall port and basket."We think your paramedic hit his head when we were going over the railroad tracks."

"How bad is he?" Marco asked.

"Vitals are stable. We'll know more once we get your cot out from on top of him."  
Kate replied, ducking back down under the cot to set the mask over Johnny's nose and mouth. She groped blindly with her other hand and found the suction tube to grab as well. This she left draped over Johnny's shoulder.

"I'll get out of your way then." Lopez said, starting to unbuckle himself.

"No. Mr. Lopez. Don't move. The cot's locked on its bracket and besides, there's no room between her and me for you to get out with the foot rest up. Hang tight."  
Kate told him.

Unseen by Kate, Liz winked at him.

Marco subsided back into sitting up on the pillows. "Okay. If you say so. Johnny?  
If you can hear me, they're taking really good care of you."

"Just relax.." Kate joined in.

DeSoto hoofed it back just then with sandbags, the wooden long board and a collar.  
"How's he doing?" he asked Kate.

"Liz's got a good manual airway hold on him under there and I've put him on O2.  
He can feel pain, sir."

"Then he's not totally out?" Roy nodded.

"No, sir. Want to take over?" Kate replied.

Roy shook his head. "You know more than I do. You're in charge."

Kate swallowed dryly as she hung onto the foot of the cot carefully. "Okay, uh.. Collar first. Then sandbags to replace Liz's hands. Then let's get this cot out of here. Marco's still on it. It'll be safer that way. If we move slow, Johnny's head and neck won't be jarred. When the engine crew gets here, we'll extricate him the rest of the way onto the long board."

"Sounds like a plan." Roy agreed. "What now?"

Kate bit her lip, nervous. "Uh,.. Oh. I can do this." and she crawled over Marco's legs long enough to deattach his lead snaps from the electrodes on his chest. Kate grabbed a fresh set of stickers and climbed back down to squirm in next to Gage under the cot. "We...can keep tabs on Johnny's heart rate...using the monitor."

"Smart thinking.." Liz said. She watched as her EMT partner unbuttoned Gage's shirt long enough to get an EKG trace going. "White, right, red left and black down below, remember?" Stanton asked Kate.

"Yeah, for a two lead." Kate said, finally starting to shake in reaction to the emergency.

"You're doing fine." Liz said. "Nobody's dying."

Kate laughed nervously, thinking some more with a frown.  
"I don't think he warrants a nasopharyngeal. He's too awake for that."

"You're right. He'll gag. And that would be a bad thing since he's still on his back."  
Liz agreed. "I've got a hold on him. He'll stay open until we get him sand bagged."

Roy concentrated on listening to Johnny's heart and lung sounds. "He's clear. He still hasn't vomited yet. But might when he's moved." he hinted.

"I've already got the suction ready, sir." Kate reported. "It's near his shoulder."

"Good." DeSoto said to boost her confidence. "Here's the collar. He's a regular.  
I don't think we'll need a second ambulance. We can reorganize and transport him boarded and on the bench with the two of us crouched in other spaces by the captain's chair. Liz'll drive. Marco, once he's collared, go ahead and crawl out. I'll need you to drive in the squad." Roy told Lopez.

"You got it. I'll fill in Cap and the others, too, once they get here."

"Kate." Roy said, reading the young EMT's name tag. "This is the first pair of sand bags. Make sure you fit them nice and snug around him. Liz'll let go only when you've set these to replace her grip."

"Collar's on." Kate said from under the cot. "Gimme them." she said, reaching up a hand from underneath the frame.

Liz and Roy grinned at her scene aggressiveness and dropped them one by one with a plop onto the floor within her reach. EMT Stanton hollered out. "What's his O2 flow at?"

"Fifteen liters, Liz." Kate replied. "Okay. I'm set. Let go of his airway..now." she told them.

Swiftly, Marco shot out of the Mayfair and onto his feet. He had already grabbed his own started I.V. bag into an elbow, cradling it like a football. He threw it into Roy's abandoned helmet and wore its strap fastened onto his belt like a carrier. "Let's get the cot out." he said eagerly, reaching for its lock lever quickly.

Inch by inch, Liz, Roy and Marco pulled the cot off of Gage and thunked it down onto the pavement. It was quickly forgotten and shoved out of the way.

Kate got right back into the emptied Mayfair and resumed a jaw thrust hold on Johnny to reopen his airway. Gage gasped strongly inside the oxygen mask over his face to feign easing breathlessness. "Oh, he got a little hypoxic, Liz." she worried.

Liz replied. "It was only for a few seconds. He'll be fine. He's on pure oxygen." she soothed.

"I'll do the hold." Roy volunteered at Kate. "You've still got his vitals in your head. Go ahead and call Rampart with a report. You've got my permission."

Reluctantly, Kate let go of Johnny's head and jaw, trading places with DeSoto. Turning, Liz began to organize an I.V. set up for Roy to use without saying anything much,  
pretending to hurry.

Kate fumbled with the biophone briefly before she found the correct dials. She picked up the receiver. "Rampart, this is Mayfair Three..How do you read?" she asked. Not happy,  
she kept a hand on Johnny's stomach, monitoring his breathing rate.

Dr. Brackett's voice appeared, strong and confident. ##Mayfair Three, this is Rampart.  
Go ahead.##

Kate took in a shaky breath and began to talk.  
"Rampart we were in mid transport of a mock with Squad 51 when one of their paramedics hit his head going over railroad tracks. I've a male, age 20 -25. Responsive to pain only. Pulse 78, respirations 20. Eyes PEARL. He is being manually airway supported, on O2. C-spine is partially immobilized. We're awaiting extra hands for long boarding."

##Mayfair Three. Is the second paramedic present on your scene?## Kel wondered.

"10-4, Rampart. He's authorized me to c-call you." Kate studdered.

##Understood.## Kel smiled, recognizing an extension of a mock exercise then.  
##Mayfair Three, keep monitoring vital signs, treat for shock, have him fully immobilized, and then bring him on in. The paramedic'll handle his NS I.V. start TKO. ## he said, falsely grave and concerned. He shrugged at Dixie's questioning glance through the window glass from her place at her desk.

Roy called out loudly. "I.V. Normal Saline. TKO. 10-4." he confirmed.

##Good job assessing this one, miss. Head injuries can be tricky.## Brackett said to Kate.  
##Keep tabs on his CMS while boarded and do a complete neural check on all limbs every five minutes, a Babinsky's and capillary refill.##

The young EMT just about teared up in relief. "10-4, Rampart. Our E.T.A. is less than ten minutes." Kate told him as she heard the first signs of Engine 51's sirens approaching them. "Mayfair Three out."

"Okay, take over." Roy said as soon as she hung up the phone. "And I'll get that line going.  
Marco, how's yours? Did it infiltrate or backup any?"

"It's fine." Lopez reported, showing DeSoto a running drip chamber. "I was careful. I'll go tell the others about our situation." he said.

"All right." Roy said, letting go of Gage's face and jawline around the sandbags once Kate grabbed hold. "Kate, you're in charge of the spineboarding when they get here. You're on his head, okay."

"Yes, I..uh, I remember that from classes, sir." Kate said. "How's he doing to you?"

"He's okay." Roy said truthfully, tossing a head at the monitor Kate had set up on Johnny.  
"See that? It's normal sinus rhythm, completely regular. He's not shocky. I'll grab a BP for your next call in vitals set. You can get the next one two minutes from now. By then, the engine crew'll be here to help us out."

Right then, Johnny started coughing.

"Find out how much he remembers." Roy ordered. "Johnny. Hold still. You were knocked out."

Kate leaned in, letting go of his jaw. "Can you breathe okay like this?"

Gage groaned and opened his eyes."Uhhhh." Then he swallowed.

Kate glanced up. "He's controlling his airway okay." she shared with Roy. "I've got your head between two sandbags. Don't try to move, you might have hurt yourself falling. Do you know who you are?" she asked, peering down.

Roy just watched, snicking up the BP cuff on one of Gage's arms.

Johnny slurred a response through the hissing oxygen mask. "...captain john gage of... station 51." he whispered hoarsely.

"Oh, boy." Roy breathed. "Off his nut still."

"Shhh." Liz shushed, glaring.

Kate continued. "What day is it?"

"Saturday, April 10th..."

"Good." said Kate. "Do you know where you are?"

"In a Mayfair?"

"Yeah. One you were supposed to be supervising." Marco retorted.

"My head hurts." Gage said, ignoring Lopez.

"It's gonna. How about your neck?" Kate asked him.

"It's... okay." Johnny peered up as Kate checked his eyes again.  
Then he smiled. "Thanks."

"You're very welcome. Now shut up and let me take care of you." Kate chided.

Gage's eyebrows quirked in barely hidden amusement.

-  
At Rampart, Kate Brown was livid. She rounded on Liz Stanton.  
"You mean that part was faked, too?"

Liz's head wobbled in sarcasm. "Sure was. Those station guys wanted to make it up to you so I went along with it."

Kate was so worked up she was almost hyperventilating. "Nasty. Of all the low down- Rotten- Sneaky.."

"Hush up, hon. You can't tell me you didn't learn a lot just now." Liz said.

"He faked a convulsion on the way in. In front of me and everybody!" Kate exasperated.

Their noise in the nurse's lounge had attracted attention. Dixie McCall came barreling through the doors. "All right. What's going on here? The two of you are making enough noise to raise the dead."

"The fake dead you mean." Kate sighed, finally mousing down. "Sorry, Dixie.  
I've just been had and I don't like it one bit."

McCall blinked at her. "You mean Gage's second mock run, don't you?  
Dr. Brackett told me about it."

"Well yeah." Kate huffed.

"It felt real, didn't it?" Dixie countered. "You used all your skills to their stretching point right?"

"Well..."

Dixie grew firm and icy direct.  
"Then feel honored. Johnny and Roy know just how to do that with new EMTs.  
And they don't carry on a spur of the moment mock like that for just anyone."

Kate's mouth flopped open.

"That's right. Either they or your EMT partner are seeing good things from you that just need a tiny bit of shaping in the skills department. That's a real good sign this early in the game." Dixie admonished mildly with a gentle smile. "Now come on, let's all share a cup of coffee and then you and I can go over just what you thought went well and what you felt that didn't." McCall invited.

"Okay, ma'am. You were one of my instructors." Brown sighed sheepishly.

"I was one of your guest speakers. Brice was your instructor. And he's enough to intimidate anyone into self doubting themselves."

"And so came Paramedic Gage's mock." Kate thought with revelation.

"Yep. All of us usually have to do some serious damage control after Craig's been at it with an EMT class." Liz said, accepting the pour Dixie offered. She dug in and opened six sugar packs and laid them neatly on the table in front of her. "We need to seriously sweeten everything afterwards."

Kate finally let down her guard. "Including your tooth?"

"We haven't had lunch yet." Liz grumbled at her partner.

Dixie chuckled. "I'll order pizza. My treat." and she got up to dial the wall phone.

Photo: EMT Kate Brown, looking worried.

Photo: EMT Liz Stanton looking mischievious.

Photo: Johnny Gage being spinal immobilized.

Photo: Roy DeSoto looking worried outside by a boulevard.

Photo: Captain Stanley running with a wooden spine board.

Photo: Dixie smiling with amusement.

Photo: Roy looking tense, acting out in a mock by an ambulance.

Photo: Fresh veggie pizza, being served.

Photo: Paramedic Craig Brice, walking in the apparatus bay.

Photo: The empty inside of a Mayfair ambulance patient compartment.  
with the doors wide open.

**************************************************  
Subject: Banter Over Bacon From: patti k ()  
Sent:Sun 7/11/10 11:30 AM

The gang was all together again around the lunch table.

Chet Kelly looked up from the monster PB and J sandwich he was building before Henry the dog's wondering eyes.

Cap made a face. "Ugh.. how can you eat all that, Kelly? Makes my stomach hurt just watching you."

"What? This?" Chet pointed, carefully shoving another piece of crispy pig back under its whole wheat shell. "I'm hungry."

"You're always hungry." Marco said, fiddling with the bandaid that Roy had given him when he stopped his water I.V. begun during their mock exercise the hour before. "And thanks to you and Johnny, I'm no longer thirsty." he glared.

Gage snorted in amusement, trying to hide his reaction.

"You should be thanking me. Free water, paid for by the county."  
Chet said matter of factly to Lopez.

Henry barked at the tension between the two.

Mike Stoker chuckled. "Aw, look at him. He's hungry again, too."  
he said, pointing at Henry, who was occupying the chair Roy wasn't yet in while he nosed around the refrigerator for a snack.

"Nah uh. No way. This fried pig's all mine. He's had enough." Chet protested, yanking his plate away in the nick of time before a drool string from the basset's mouth could land on it.

Hank just sighed. "Are you sure you're right, Chet? We all chipped in for some more bacon."

"Oh, come on, Cap. His belly's dragging the ground and he can't even shred Randy the manikin's pants legs off anymore. What does that tell you?"

"That we're stupid firemen for letting him get so fat." Stoker said, stealing a slathered slice of bacon out of Chet's sandwich.

"Hey!" Kelly shouted.

Marco celebrated. "You snooze, you-"

"All right, I get the picture. Next meal I'll have you know I'm breaking out the big guns to protect my food." Chet told him.

"Oh, yeah? How?" Gage asked, biting into a carrot stick that was more ranch dressing than vegetable.

"I'm leaving my toothbrush right on top of it." Kelly glared right back.

"Ewww.." Roy frowned. "Now I'm not hungry." he said shoving the doors of the refrigerator closed.

"That's the point." Chet grinned, happy with the effect.

"So how did your second stage mock go?" Cap asked. "Besides totally failing the travel-in time."

"That was her fault. You know, the younger one?" Gage said about the page haired Mayfair EMT. "She slowed down."

"Her name's Kate." Roy prompted, finally shoving Henry off of his chair and sitting down with a freshly full and steaming coffee pot.  
He was about to pour off the best layer at the top when Cap cleared his throat, pro-offering an empty mug from around a held up newspaper.  
DeSoto sighed and dibbed out to him. "One lump or two?"

Hank sniffed, still invisible behind his business section. "I like mine-"

"...black like soot, because I'm a fireman. Yeah, we know, Cap." said Chet. "Roy, you should know that, too. You give up to him enough."

Gage broke into the conversation to prevent another sniping small beans argument between everybody. "Ah, she did just fine. She got kinda mad though when my pants were still dry after I seized a bit on the board half way into Rampart. I thought she was gonna strangle me right then and there."

"Smart girl." Chet chuckled. "I'd be mad, too. You should have ruined your shorts for her, Gage."

"Now that's disgusting, Chet." Johnny minced, getting mad, too.

"Hey, realism is realism." Kelly defended. "So... Now her feelings are hurt."  
he said lacing his fingers together thoughtfully, questioningly.

Johnny was undeterred from his original impression. He held up an admonishing finger. "Okay, maybe I faked too much. But she's now got a real solid medical emergency experience under her belt. And who's to say what I did was entirely wrong? We get ex-druggies faking convulsions all the time trying to get meds from us, isn't that right, Roy?"

"I suppose." Roy said, sipping his coffee.

"And we never give them what they want." Gage said proudly.

"And they get mad, too." Roy surmised, wryly.

Hank just coughed. "You know I'm ordering you to end all the fun and games once you begin your ambulance company assignment tomorrow."

"Is that coming so soon?" Chet celebrated, totally happy.

"Oh, hush." Johnny glared at him. "Yes, we'll be leaving then." he told Kelly. "Just as soon as our temporary orders go through Headquarters and our replacements arrive to take our place."

Woof! said Henry.

Johnny looked at Henry in a double take, not believing his ears. "Do I bug you, too? Do I?" he said, defensively.

"You bug everybody, Gage. Nothing new." Hank sniffed, turning a page.

"So who are we getting?" Kelly grinned widely.

"Bellingham and Brice." DeSoto cut in.

The smiles wiped clean off Chet and Marco's faces. "For the whole summer?"

"Yep." Gage grinned right back, enjoying himself. "Oh, but don't worry. You'll see us every once in a while, when we come in on an ambulance to pick up the squad's patients with a Mayfair crew or two."

Kelly shot back a reply. "Maybe you'll get paired up with Kate Brown and Liz Stanton.  
I'm sure they'll enjoy dropping a heavy stretcher wheel or two on your toe every now and then."

"Ha. ha. No. We're not at their base station. We'll be at Mayfair headquarters in Torrance." Gage breathed.

"Right next to Rampart?" Marco asked.

"Yep." said Roy.

"Oh, far out! Then you can just walk on over to the cafeteria for some of that gourmet food of theirs when the Mayfair EMTs all snub ya for acting like superior paramedic supervisors after you get there." said Chet.

"He's not gonna be in charge. I am." said Roy.

"You are?" Johnny asked, doing a double take.

"He is." Hank said, still hidden behind his newspaper.

"Oh." Johnny said. "Well, guess I'm free to date a few of them since I'm not gonna be their boss then."

Roy set down his coffee mug. "Wait a minute, I thought you'd never date an EMT because they aren't at a high enough level for you skills wise."

"I've change my mind. That Kate, she.. she was something else. She anticipated every complication on me even before it happened. And that trick of using Marco's EKG monitor to monitor me, was an absolutely brilliant idea! I mean, she doesn't even have permission to use one."

"It was an emergency." Roy drawled, defensive on her behalf.

"A fake one." Johnny countered.

DeSoto just stared at him. "No EMT I've ever seen ever steps over their limits of practice for a real situation out in the field. I know Kate would never do that in real life."

"You know that for a fact, eh?" Johnny said, biting into another drowned carrot.

"Yeah, I know that for a fact." Roy said getting up in arms.

"Money where your mouth is." Gage challenged, grinning.

"You're gonna lose. I can't take your money." DeSoto said, tight lipped.

"New EMT is new EMT, Roy. They all wanna out do the paramedics." Johnny said.

"Since when are you the sudden expert?" Roy roared.

"Since I ran a mock with a one EMT called Kate Brown." he chewed.

"You're impossible!" Roy told him. Then he looked at Cap with exasperation.  
"Cap, she was fine. Absolutely rock star on all points. Johnny doesn't know what he's talking about. Must have been that crack he took to his head."

"I didn't hit my head today." Gage said.

"Not today. I'm talking about the seven other times since I've known ya."  
Roy snapped right back. "Your symptoms are getting worse."

Chet started laughing out loud.

Woof! said Henry.

The tones went off.

"Saved by the bell." Cap muttered gratefully as the whole gang leaped out of their chairs to run for the trucks.

Photo: Cap looking matter of fact at the kitchen table.

Photo: Stoker and Marco looking amused over lunch.

Photo: Henry begging from the couch.

Photo: A Mayfair and a rescue squad side by side at Rampart.

Photo: Roy and Johnny in labcoats in an office.

Photo: A white stethoscope sitting on an ambulance bill.

Photo: Chet questioning someone with a pencil, serious.

************************************************** Subject: Side Move..  
From: patti k ()  
Sent:Mon 7/12/10 11:36 AM

The door to the doctor's lounge swung open swiftly and quickly shut again behind where Joe Early and Kel Brackett were sitting at a table enjoying like pairs of apples. The bang it made was enough to make both doctors turn around.

"Sorry." said Dixie McCall, still leaning on the wall in relief and partial guilt as she held the door shut behind her.

"Problem?" Brackett asked, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

"You can call it that." Dix admitted as she doubled checked to make sure no sounds of footfalls were following her to her refuge.

Joe merely smiled and patted the chair in between them. "Don't tell me. Let me guess. The antics of the boys in blue again?"

"Oh, yeah..." McCall sighed in exasperation. "And the raging ire of some gals in white as a result."

Dr. Brackett just chuckled. "Dix, I'm surprised at you. Running mock medicals at all the fire departments every month was your idea. With their call volume there's bound to be a little stress relief tossed somewhere in there for anything that's really not an actual emergency."

"Not this bad." she said.

Kel's eyes widened as he round pitched his apple core into the garbage near the beverage station. "Oh, don't tell me. Johnny Gage?"

"And probably Chet Kelly." McCall grumbled. "I love those boys, but sometimes,  
they just drive me up the wall."

"We saw that." Kel nodded, inclining his head at the wall she had previously pressed up against. "What was it that happened this time?"

"A little too much honesty I guess. First an I.V. joke, then a serious mock real enough to fool a brand new EMT right up until a big grand mal started en route."

"Ooo. I'm sure he didn't mean any harm by that. You know how impressionable young women are in a field dominated by mostly men."

Dixie grinned, finally relaxing. "Bite your tongue. Our day's coming. We have what?  
One female paramedic now, and two doctors?"

Joe just shoved his cup of untouched coffee over to Dixie. "Come on, now. What's the real problem? I can't see smoothing down another EMT/paramedic spat as anything that would rattle you." He looked askance at Dixie, then at Brackett thoughtfully,  
then he asked the question. "So did you get an answer yet from some of them?"

Dixie made a face. "No. I was too busy to even ask. You know I never interrupt a mock coming into the ER out of character. Not until it's over. And after this one came in and I got all the hot air blown out of it, Roy and Johnny and Marco had already left to go back to the station."

"There's always a phone call."

"Roy might be a good one to bounce things off of." Dixie said, thinking. "He's got a good ear."

"Anything I can help with?" Kel asked, curious, but polite.

"Joe and I decided that you probably can't. It's something I need to do on my own for my own health." McCall chuckled.

"Are you sick? We do live together." Brackett said, getting worried.

"Not sick physically. You'd notice that as soon as I was. No, Joe and I figured out that I'm just a little emotionally maladjusted with my small little place in the world and with the larger scheme of things for some mysterious, annoying unknown reason."

"Ohh.. G*d I've so been there. It's the job, right?" Kel asked.

"You got it." Dixie sighed, depressed.

Kel got to his feet, looking at his watch. "If it means anything, we all love you and this whole place would absolutely fall apart, without you." Brackett said,  
giving her a kiss on the cheek. "I've got to go. I've a backlog of urgent care patients to see."

"Good luck." Dixie waved as he moved across the room to put his white coat back on. Soon, he left room, leaving Dixie and Dr. Early alone with their thoughts.

Joe sat quietly where he was, studying the heavily tooth bitten skin of his apple absently. "So what's the next step?"

"I talk to them."

"So have at it. Then you'll have some peace of mind."

Dixie groaned and got up from her chair and moved to the payphone on the wall near the vending machine. She dialed up the L.A. county dispatcher. "Hi, this is Dixie McCall from Rampart Hospital's Emergency Room. Is Station 51 available?  
No, this isn't business. Oh, I see. Thanks." She hung up the phone.

Joe raised his eyebrows.

"They're on a run. They just left."

"Oh, tough luck! And this is your last break?"

"Yep." Dixie said dejectedly, folding back into the chair next to Joe.

"I know where you can find Roy DeSoto easily tomorrow. And I guarantee you that he won't be going on any fire calls."

"Oh? Where? Is he off duty?"

Joe shook his head.  
"He and Johnny are part of an occupation exchange program to fill a manpower lack with Mayfair ambulance company. They'll be right next door bright and early tomorrow, at six a.m., reporting to the ambulance garage." Early shared.

"How did you find out about that? That's news to me." McCall asked, surprised.

"Paramedic Brice updated me during the last patient transport he brought in with his partner. He figured I'd be "more efficient" with current information about it."  
Joe said dryly, amused.

"He thought right." Dixie laughed. "Oh wow, having Roy and Johnny off a squad's gonna feel weird."

"Not half as weird as it's gonna feel for them acting as EMT supervisors."

"They'll manage." Dixie giggled.

"Only if you can." Joe shot back.

Dixie smacked him on the arm for touching a sore point again about her self doubts.  
"Okay, I'll talk to him. But only in private. I really think DeSoto's my choice, Joe. I sincerely hope he can help me figure out my head in time to save what's left of my sanity."

Joe just nodded in support. But then his whole face lit up.  
"Say, Dix. Maybe you can transfer over to the same program, too. You know.  
Get in a change of environment away from the hospital for a few months."

"Oh, that's craziness, Joe. You heard Kel. I'm indispensible."

Joe cleared his throat. "Are you kidding me? Both Carol and Betty are a force of nature on your behalf. Do me a favor, huh? Go talk to the administrator about this. It would be a good thing for you to do. Something new. That always clears my head."

"A vacation, huh?" Dixie said skeptically.

"No, a paid side move, just for the summer." Joe grinned.

The side of Dixie's mouth started to quirk up a bit. "Might be kind of fun. It's been years since I've worked out of an ambulance garage."

"That's the spirit."

Photo: Dixie standing in the doctor's lounge with Kel.

Photo: Joe sitting on a countertop by a bulletin board.

Photo: Kel hugging Dixie for encouragement.

Photo: A quiet ambulance garage at night.

Photo: A row of Mayfair ambulances, in daylight.

***************************************************  
Subject: White Stuff and Red Tape..  
From: patti k ()  
Sent:Fri 7/16/10 5:06 AM

Station 51 rushed into an area of the marina subdivision that was well known to the fire department. Both the squad and the engine slowed down when they hit ocean air congealed by the spring cold and the lack of any wind. Stoker sounded an air horn. *Blat! Blattt!*

Engine 8 replied with a like blast to orient them in the murk. Then came Captain Ed Stone's voice over the HT frequency. ##Engine 8 to Engine 51. Warehouse B to the north. Our hoses are parallel to the causeway. Come on in.##

Hank gestured for them all to pull up adjacent to Station Eight's L shape command area that had been made using their squad and Crown engine.  
He leaped out of his cab and was met by his African American colleague counterpart.

"Guess it was a false alarm, Hank." said Captain Stone. "We didn't find anything of consequence inside. Just some freshly dumped gasoline on the ground floor under the foundations. No people on infrared. No active fire or smoke. Just the same burned out husk we've already known about from the first. All of what we're seeing here now is leftover sea fog."

Hank glanced around in the thick afternoon haze, and sighed. "I can see why a passerby thought it was on fire. Still smells fresh. Bitter. Didn't this place burn down almost two weeks ago?"

"Uh, huh." Stone nodded. "It might be a good thing to sweep the whole area again just to double check for a re-triggering device. You know how some of the torches in this neighborhood operate."

"Now why would an arsonist attack a warehouse that's already been burned to the ground?" Cap wondered, shaking his head at the fumes smell.

Stone readjusted a sweaty helmet onto his head and unbuckled his chinstrap.  
"I don't know. Maybe he or she felt there was no legal risk to it anymore."

Cap just chuckled, annoyed. "Still trespassing and illegal burning."

Ed conmiserated. "A fire itch is a fire itch. They've just got to see flames when the urge gets bad."

"Sometimes, Ed, I wish all of them could be legally blinded to deny them the thrill." Hank gruffed. "Okay then. Guess we'll join you in wasting even more city water to wash it all down again to dilute out the dumped fuel." Hank grumbled as he watched Stone's men tackle the old, blackened rubble with fanning spray. Bright mist curled around them in ribbons of milk, restricting their vision down to less than ten yards.

Stone squinted in the intense sunlight effect magnified by the fog bank. "Our tanks are almost empty. Wy-line to a hydrant to finish up for us?"

"Sure thing." Cap told him. "You can go, Ed, to refill, then return to quarters. There's a fresh water hydrant on the next block. We'll take it from here."

"See ya." Stone said. He whistled piercingly to get all of his men's attention. All five eyeballed Stone, stopping in their tracks. Ed made a fast cut throat gesture to tell them they were being cleared for a wrap up and return to base. His crew hopped to, working to drain out and refold their weakening half charged hose lines.

Cap lifted his H.T. "Engine 51, L.A.. Station Eight is running dry so I've released them. Still no active fire or smoke at this location. But an arson investigator may want to see this new attempt. Signs are evident."

##10-4, Engine 51. Will advise Battalion One of your status.##

"10-4." Hank replied. Then he donned his mask to join the others.

"Cap?" Roy asked, shouting through his mask as he and Johnny hustled to lay out line.

"Cold re-arson failure. Gasoline. No injuries. Wash her down on the ground floor." he told his two paramedics.

"Right." Gage replied, waving a gloved hand once.

Ten minutes later, the two fire stations had traded places. The county followed up and sent out a canteen to set up near them for R and R.

Johnny looked up when he heard bootfalls jogging closer in the fog.

"I brought this for you and DeSoto, Gage." said Brice the paramedic. He was wearing his air bottle and mask loosely hung around his neck.

There was a thick red book in his glove.

"What's this?" Johnny asked, leaning on the squad's door impatiently as he waited for Roy to finish gearing up.

"A copy of the Los Angeles County Auditor's Operation Guidelines."  
Craig explained, offering it up.

Johnny didn't move, and only smiled back.  
"We're not gonna need that. We're just-" Gage said with amusement.

"...gonna be responsible for all the company's daily billing-per-run forms and procedures." Brice finished, correcting him.

"B-Billing?" Johnny stuttered.

"Of course. An ambulance company, even under a staffing switch, is still a private business. Subject to all the same bylaws which govern California's compensation for services rendered. You do know how to organize their books, don't you?"

"Well, I uh.. well, yeah.." Johnny insisted, feeling suddenly self defensive.

"Great. Then I'm sure Mayfair's co-Rampart branch is being left in good hands."  
Brice said, waving as he walked away with his manual. "See you later."

"See ya, Brice." Gage said, stunned. He didn't show it until Brice's back was turned.

Roy walked by just then lugging a few empty air bottles from Station Eight.

Johnny caught up with him and matched his pace.  
"Roy? Listen to me for a sec. I gotta tell you. We might be in for far more than we can chew."

Roy didn't break his stride, forcing Gage to accept a bottle from his arm load so he could get a hand free to open the squad compartment set aside for empties. "In for what and where?" he asked blandly, concentrating on what he was doing to stack and chain the air cylinders in properly.  
"This call looks pretty boring to me."

Gage made a noise of disbelief.  
"Not us, here. Our stint at Mayfair. Did you know that we'll be in charge of all the finances, too?"

"Yep. I'm not surprised by that. But you sure seem to be." Roy pointed out, puzzled.

"Roy, think of all the paperwork that will need to be done!" Gage exasperated.

DeSoto just shrugged. "So?"  
"That's usually the case in a company who charges people for rides and supplies.  
Mayfair's been around for a long time and has maintained a good reputation and relationship with the fire department. That's probably why it was one of the companies picked to be incorporated into the county. Things there can't be all that bad office wise. It'll probably be no big deal to handle."

Johnny was not reassured. "I thought I was getting away from all the figuring and stuff. I'm not real good with numbers on paper. At all. Only with ones in my head like medication doses per weight or volume I.V. flow delivery rates between needle sizes."

Roy just angled his head.  
"Tell me about it. That's probably why I'm stuck with resupplying our gear and pharmaceuticals all of the time." Roy bemoaned. "Dixie keeps sharing her undying gratitute that it's me and not you ordering our stuff for every shift." he said.

Gage just made a face.

"But rest assured, you'll do fine with all of it. I'll offer you tips and pointers later, along with my electric calculator." Roy told him.

Johnny just stared at Roy, looking small but quickly rock firm, in his full turnout. "What you do mean, me?"

Roy took off his helmet and ran some fingers through his sweaty hair.  
"I'm gonna be too busy supervising all of the new EMTs out on practical ride alongs after they pass their written tests with the county examiners." Roy explained, folding his arms over his jacketted elbows. "There won't be enough hours in the day for me to do much of the office stuff."

"What? How? Why do YOU get to be the one to go out in the field?" Gage groused,  
unfastening his too long chin strap.

DeSoto was matter of fact.  
"Because I'm gonna be the boss, according to Cap. And the highest rank takes out all the newbies according to regulations. Look it up." Roy said, closing the squad tool doors with finality. He strode off to climb into the cab on the other side of the squad. He was after one of the water bottles that Relief Aid had cast inside of it.

Johnny's mouth flopped open at being cut off but then he dissolved into irritation when he suddenly found himself eyeing up the departing Squad 8 and its auditor's manual enviously. His handy talkie suddenly crackled, startling him.

##L.A., Squad 51. What's your current status?##

Roy picked up the mic. "Squad 51, L.A.. We're available. No victims at the scene."

*BEEP BEEP BEEP* ##Squad 51. Woman down. Unknown unconscious. 914 Beechwood. 914 Beechwood. Cross street Melvin. A Mayfair has been dispatched. Time out : 18:49.##

"Squad 51, 10-4. KMG 365." said Roy as Johnny peeled out of his air bottle fast to heft it into the space on the roof into its rack behind the chrome railworks.

Gage quickly got in and hefted up his HT a little closer to his ear in case there were updates on the way from the caller through L.A. "I'm set. Let's go." he said.  
"We're gonna talk about this later, Roy. I'm getting seriously freaked out about this new mandatory exchange program."

"Volunteer." he corrected. "I can't wait." Roy said, rolling his eyes as he waved to Cap as they drove by with their reds on. ::Here it comes. He's gonna tell me anyway.:: Roy thought to himself.

"Did Cap elect us with our permission?" Gage asked seriously.

In reply, DeSoto flicked on the sirens and just drove, keeping his mind on business.

Photo: Gage using a spotlight on the squad to see in fog from the running board.

Photo: A foggy coastline.

Photo: A warehouse fire being fought by firefighters in the fog.

Photo: Captain Stone close up.

Photo: Captains Stanley and Stone talking on a marina causeway.

Photo: Stone and his crew gearing up on Station Eight's Crown Engine.

Photo: Roy acknowledging L.A. from the squad's open door.

Subject: The Boys In Brown..  
From: patti k ()  
Sent:Tue 7/20/10 6:16 PM

"Beechwood? What is it? Single story duplex or triplex?" Johnny wondered,  
looking at the address he had scribbled down onto a piece of paper.

"It's a tri." Roy replied, recalling the area in his mind. "We may have to do a search once we get there. Three families in the same building."

"Split up?" Johnny suggested.

"Yeah, if we have to. We can use our HTs to keep in touch with each other while we look."

"Okay. Do it standard. A, B, C, D." Gage said.

"With side A being where we park?"

"Uh huh, and Side B clockwise adjacent." Johnny clarified.

For three long minutes, Squad 51 banked and turned around curves and rushed along straight aways, heading for their destination. The area surrounding the boulevard went from cheerful middle class sprawling suburbia to something much older, more run down, and tired.

"I sure hope we have police on the scene." Johnny sighed.

"It might not be a domestic." Roy said. "A lot of folks might still be at work and separated from each other."

"Does it look like a lot of people are working in this neighborhood to you?"  
Johnny asked seriously.

Roy eyed up the vine covered broken chain link fences and litter strewn streets again. Both firefighters noticed a fresh graffiti patch glistening wetly across the side panel of a glass cracked bus shelter. And signs of a wire mesh can nearby filled with the soggy remains of a half burned out garbage pile inside that someone had put out with a hastily dumped bag of ice. It was still smouldering.

"I think the war's still going on.." Johnny finished up, rolling up his window protectively.  
"Who did Marco say lived over here?"

"The Red Lobos..."

"And the Surenos. Now I remember." replied Gage.

"Not a good match." DeSoto said grimly, cutting off their sirens as they entered the quieter network of confusing cul de saacs that Beechwood Haven consisted of.  
It was far from a haven. And only half dead Queen's palms and yucca decorated the yards. The rest was an arid morass of dirt and blowing dust in front of plaster cracked adobe dwellings painted in gay pastels.

A distant sound of a sudden gunshot echoing over a small grassy hill in front of where they cruised cautiously, made both paramedics duck nervously. Johnny snatched up the radio mic. "Right. The trenchs are still a little too active for me." he said tightly. "Squad 51, L.A. Requesting P.D. support to precede our patient contact. Shots are being fired less than a quarter of a mile from our location."

##L.A. , Squad 51. Police are aware of your presence in the area. A cruiser has been dispatched to assist. Stand by for a rendevous.##

A new voice broke into the fire department's channel.## Seven Charlie Six to Squad 51 on main fire channel. Do you copy?##

Gage grinned. "It's Vince!" He toggled the talk button. "Squad 51, go ahead."

##Put on your ballistics as a precaution. I've already told the Mayfair to wait four blocks away out in the open along the busy street for safety. We'll be there in two.##  
Howard advised. ##Come to a halt under cover.##

Roy pulled them over under some overgrown bushes and killed the active reds.  
"I'm liking that idea." he said, nodding his head in the darkness of the newly growing evening.

Johnny continued to rubber neck around, looking for signs of other people. Both of them kept their helmets on. Gage got back on the air. "10-4. Holding position at.."

Howard's transmission crackled over his.  
##Don't broadcast your whereabouts. We'll find you. They have scanners.##

"Holy sh*t.." Gage breathed in shock. "What kind of gangs do that kind of-"

## We can triangulate. Keep a mic on open air.## he ordered. ##We can trace you directly that way without depending on visuals.##

Gage froze in place and pressed the button. "We're on the air." he said, softly.

##We're receiving you.## the policeman confirmed.

Just then, Roy realized that L.A. had cleared the channel just for their use. The usual fire and medical calls for other stations had gone totally quiet. ::Or they've been masked.:: he realized. "Johnny, I'll get those vests." DeSoto said. "Stay put." he told Gage, who still held the active radio mic in his hand. Highly disturbed now, Roy quickly got out of the squad, shutting the driver's door quietly without making a sound,  
as he hurried for a side compartment outside that held their bullet flaks in storage.

He returned a few seconds later with his on, holding up the second as he climbed back into the squad's cab compartment. "I'll take that." he said, taking over Johnny's hold on the talk enabled mic. "Put this on."

"I don't know why we just can't leave." Gage whispered harshly, with some stress, as he swiftly buckled up into the thick vest. "We're not safe."

"It's because we have to get there. There may be a woman's life on the line." Roy said, just as quietly, to avoid being heard on the radio. DeSoto was calm, having years of army active combat under his belt, most recently, Viet Nam's first tour. But Johnny, had never been on tour. "We're never safe in a burning building..." DeSoto suggested, trying some levity.

"Burning buildings aren't trying to shoot at us with metal bullets!" Johnny hissed, sinking down into his passenger's seat miserably.

"No, they're just trying to blow us to smithereens on occasion. Do you find that somehow less dangerous than where we are right now?" he smiled.

"Yes! The other way, we can at least fight back with water hoses. Not just sit here like a huge, vulnerable, red painted targ-"

##Squad 51. We've got you covered.## came a voice on an overhead bullhorn. ##Proceed to your house call.## Vince told them. He briefly flicked on his red lights. They were right on the rescue squad's bumper. ##We'll back you up. Weapons, out, men!## he broadcasted.

Across the street, cracked blinds that nobody noticed earlier on that had opened in several houses, snapped shut.

Roy lifted the radio mic. "Uh, Seven Charlie Six. The address is.. uh... right around the bend on the corner, left hand side. Where do you want us?"

##Not in the driveway. Park between us.##

"Between us?" Gage wondered. Johnny tilted his head and looked in the rear view side mirror. Howard's headlights suddenly duplicated into a second police squad car on stealth mode. Its motor was completely quiet.

##Squad 51, this is Seven Mary David from the California Highway Patrol. He'll take your outer flank.##

Roy waved at the spotlight that suddenly hit them.

The new voice rang out with authority. ##Go about your business.##

Roy restarted the squad's ignition, put the drive in gear, and pulled carefully forward.

"Should I feel better about this?" Gage asked, still uneasy.

"A little." Roy replied.

"What do you mean, a little?" Johnny exasperated.

Vince suddenly popped up right next to Gage's window, startling him as he jumped onto their running board. He, too, was fully armored in flak gear. "Welcome to my world, gentlemen." he said, inviting Johnny to roll down the window for easier communication. "Lovely night, isn't it?"

"No.." Gage gaped. "But we're really glad to see you at any rate." he tried to grin.

"How bad is it really, Vince?" DeSoto asked, keeping his steering straight.

"Seriously?" Howard grinned, relaxed, watching where they were going.

"Yeah." Roy prompted, only slightly down in his guard.

"Okay, I'll tell you the truth." He seemed almost jovial. Vince sighed, and shifted his safety released assault rifle to his other shoulder.  
"In here, even being just on the edge of the projects, we're outnumbered. We're on their territory now." came his reply. "It's up to the closest resident gang to decide if we save that woman. Or not. We're just here to try and convince them to do the right thing."

Johnny, just swallowed. "Remember that war I was telling you about?"  
he muttered to Roy. "Well, I think we're gonna be in for a real battle."

"It's not a full moon. We might get lucky." DeSoto shrugged.

"I'm counting on it." Gage muttered. "Boy, am I ever."

Photo: CHiPs cruiser next to an ambulance.

Photo: Squad 51 rushing at you in a dust cloud, red lights on.

Photo: Roy looking askance from behind the squad's driving wheel.

Photo: Vince grinning like a Cheshire cat from the squad's running board.

Photo: Gage not looking happy, slumped in the squad's passenger seat.

Subject: Ill Moon.. From: patti k () Sent:Mon 7/26/10 2:00 PM Vince's squad tailed Roy as he drove to their addressed location. The assisting CHiP cruiser stayed ahead of them, dark and lightless in the shadows as the last of the sun's sky glow faded.

"We're here." said Roy to Johnny and the three officers with them. He pointed with his arm and finger to show them where the triplex was out the window.  
"That multiplex."

"Aim your headlights at the house, Roy." Vince ordered, jumping off of the squad's running board. "Leave a space for us next to you towards the curb."  
Howard gestured toward his partner behind them to pull up curb side parallel.

DeSoto slowed to a stop.

##We'll locate the correct family for you.## added Officer Barry Baricza over the radio in the stealth car. ##Stand by.## he said as he nimbly backed up until he flanked the squad's street side.

Gage and DeSoto watched as Vince and Barry soon moved into a well practiced approach towards the shrub shrouded dwelling using their weapons' line of sight as cover. Somewhere close, a dog began to bark.

"Oh, no." Johnny breathed, eyeing up the overgrown yard. He spotted where a brindle striped bulldog was chained and on alert. "I hope that dog isn't theirs.  
He'll give our location away if he keeps on hollering like that."

"We're not gonna be here long. We'll make it load and go no matter what."  
Roy promised. "We can treat her on the way."

Gage informed an intently listening Sam of their status. "L.A., we're on scene with P.D."

##Squad 51. Time out : 19:04.##

Roy glanced at his watch reflexively, completely conscious of how much time was passing without contact with their patient or the caller. "Six minutes, five, Johnny." he mumbled. "If she's not breathing..." he let his comment fade away.

Johnny's fists curled on the dashboard and he began muttering a mantra in frustration. "Scene safety. Scene safety..."

"I know." Roy said.

The two paramedics peered cautiously through the windows of the police car protecting them, towards the house. They heard Vince and Barry begin to knock, announcing their presence from either side of the first door. Vince held his tactical rifle, out of door didn't open.

"D*mn." Gage heard Vince's partner swear from where he was guarding their vehicles in the street.

"Somebody at home made that phone call. They'll answer the door." Roy told him.

"Hope you're right." said the younger policeman, fidgetting with his gloves. He looked nervous.

The hair on the back of Roy's neck prickled and old instincts came suddenly to the foreground. Unbidden, he began looking into the darkness surrounding the park next to them by the hill. He saw nothing, but a wind began to sway the chapparel bushes planted there, obscuring details. "Feel that?" he asked Johnny and the officer.  
"We're being watched." Vince's partner moved to his squad car for a set of binoculars quickly. Roy sighed, "Like fish in a barrel."

"Shut up, please." said Gage. "My nerves are shot as it is." He twitched in his seat, fiddling with his HT. He jumped when it suddenly activated.

##We found them. Side C.## said Vince over the frequency.

"Let's go." said Johnny. The firemen grabbed absolutely everything, moving as quickly as they could in their bulky bullet vests, loading gear boxes, cardiac equipment and oxygen into their arms and hands. They closed the squad's compartment doors afterwards, unprompted.

As they made their way to the house, Roy only relaxed when he saw Baricza exiting again to stand on the porch in a vigil with Vince's long distance weapon. "What do we have?" DeSoto asked him as he and Johnny hurried towards him.

"Haven't gotten that far yet. We only know the two adults inside are unarmed and that there are children's toys for under age five in there. Vince's with the husband. The woman's on the couch and she's breathing." Barry replied.

That's all Roy and Johnny needed to hear. Thinking ahead, Johnny left all but the most critical medical gear, by the door at Barry's feet.

Immediately, a heavier set man from Mexico spoke up, his words slurred, when he saw them."That's right, boys. Get her up, the good for nothing- The dishes still need to be done."

Roy frowned as the stench of warm beer floated up from half a case of empty beer cans piled high on the table next to the man. The TV was blaring in front of him, on a night baseball game. He was seated clearly from a firm request made by Vince who was standing above him to one side.

Johnny knelt by the woman's head. "She's pregnant." he said. He saw that she was breathing, but partially obstructed, on her back where she lay sprawled ackwardly on the couch. "Ma'am, can you hear me? Are you all right?" he commanded, digging a few knuckles into her breast bone in a pain check. The woman's eyes flew open and her pale legs and arms flailed as she was jolted awake.

"What?" the small woman blurted in a sleepy question, her fists coming up into curls. Her attitude belied the clean, flowered maternity sun dress she was still wearing.

Johnny leaned back, out of reach, keeping clear of her. "Are you okay?" he asked again. "My partner and I, we're paramedics with the Los Angeles County Fire Department."

Roy spoke up, too. "We had a call that you were unconscious and unresponsive."

Her pretty Irish eyes immediately hardened. "Do I look unconscious to you, fireman? I was sleeping. It's my second trimester. I got a little tired an hour ago and thought I'd lay down. I've been doing chores all day long."

The house was neat, and everybody could still smell fresh floor wax and laundry starch lingering in the air around the beer odor.

"Not long enough." chuckled her drunk husband in a toast as he took another drink from his Olympia beer can.

His young, gracefully boned, freckle skinned wife whirled to glare at him as she awkwardly tried to sit up around her swollen belly.

Johnny helped her."So you're all right then? N- No problems with the baby?" Gage asked, pointing down at her stomach.

"Of course not. I was only taking a nap!" she declared, trying to straighten her messy hair. Unconsciously, both Roy and Johnny's eyes fell on the beer can pile spilling onto the floor. The young wife went ballistic even as her large spouse starting laughing again when he noticed DeSoto and Gage's glances.

"Does it smell like I've been drinking to you?" said the red hair braided wife, smacking the couch cushions.

Gage let go of her elbow and stood up to get away from her. "Uh, no ma'am." he answered, rubbing his aching forehead in frustration. "You look-"

"...strong and healthy as an ox." said her amused, beer sodden spouse in the lazy chair. "Just the way I like em!" he crowed, belching loudly. "And Alannah here sure is one... b-beautiful... ox." he declared, not making any sense.

Vince got mad. "Listen, mister. Did you notify the operator because you genuinely felt that your wife was actually sick here?"

The husband couldn't meet Vince's eyes clearly, intoxicated as he was. "She's sick all right. Sick in the head. Always trying to get me to exercise." he laughed. "Now get up and fix me some dinner, my exquisite Celtic beauty!" he roared in mock threat.

The young mother's expression changed to one of active scolding. "Sancho! Tell me you didn't bother these fine gentleman with an emergency call." she lilted in a rich Irish accent.

"I did." he burbled.

"You should be ashamed of yourself Sancho Diaz!" she said, shaking a soap and water wrinkled finger at her giggling spouse. "There are REAL sick people out there and you've just taken all of these on duty services men away from them!"

The husband's expression immediately changed into one of pure rage. He didn't say a word. He just flew up onto his feet in seconds and started moving towards his slender, enraged, pregnant wife who began equally, to go after him, both hands raised.

Vince shifted his radio strap out of the way onto the back of his shoulder. "Whoa. Whoa. Stop right there you two."

Roy and Johnny immediately started talking simultaneously.  
"Nah, you don't wanna fight here. Think of the baby." DeSoto tried.  
"Sancho. You're plastered. You don't know what you're doing. You're gonna hurt somebody." Gage added.

But the husband and wife ignored them all started raining blows onto each other's faces, violently, in what must have been a normal everyday scuffle for them. Blood immediately began to flow. It shocked their rescuers into action.

Vince shouted out loud. "Baricza! They've gone physical. Get in here and help us get them apart!"  
Howard leaped onto the wife's arms, pulling them behind her shoulders firmly,  
even as Roy and Johnny went for the husband's.

Barry flew through the open front door and immediately helped out Roy and Johnny who were being lifted and flung around as if they were made of paper.  
He tried two tackle moves to drop the husband. They didn't work because of the involved beer and bulk.

"ArrGGGGHHHH. Nobody's gonna cuff me! I'm a fully legal U.S. C-Citizen!" Sancho slurred, now turning his attack onto the two paramedics and CHiP officer.

Barry drew out his pepper spray. "Let go of him. Everybody back!" he ordered.

DeSoto and Gage needed no encouragement and hastily slammed against a wall to avoid contact.

Barry sprayed Sancho's eyes and he went down onto his knees as if pole axed, screeching, as he clawed at his face. Then he began to retch and choke.  
Barry easily cuffed him after he shoulder tipped him over onto his side onto the carpeting.

Meanwhile, Howard had tripped and pushed the wife back onto the couch face down and had her in cuffs. He was already helping her back into a seated position.

"What did you do to my poor Sancho? Did you hurt him?" Alannah asked, spitting out blood. "We were only boxin', our agreed way to end an argument. He wouldn't have hit below my belt."

Roy just stared at her.

Officer Howard just shook his head when she continued to fidget in his hands.  
"Ma'am. We're cuffing you for your own protection. Now settle down!"  
Vince kept her controlled with a grip on her cuffs where she sat. "Notice something odd about all this boys?" he asked Roy and Gage as they knelt in rubber gloves, to see if Sancho was truly breathing all right through the capsicum's burning. His screams had died off into faint groans of pain and violent coughing.

"Notice what?" Gage asked, his eyes still bugging out at the bizarre couple's antics.  
"He's still doing fine here." Johnny said in annoyance as he opened the man's mouth and eyes, looking for signs of allergy. There were none.

Baricza looked up from the locked handcuffs he was double checking for safety.  
"Vince means where's their first kid? Wouldn't a child come running in to mom and dad at all this commotion?" he asked, kicking a polished boot out at a stack of neatly piled and brightly painted building blocks still sitting on the floor in front of the TV set.

"Yeah, now that I'm thinking about it." Roy said. "Something's not right here."  
DeSoto's ill at ease quickly spread.

"I'll.. go look in the hallway. There are bedrooms down there." Barry said. "Ma'am,  
what's your first born's name?" he ordered.

"Ryan. Why? He just went to bed right after his supper."

"What time was that?"

"Around four thirty." Alannah replied, still mystified. "He always goes to bed early at night. There's nothing strange about this. He's a sound sleeper,  
like me."

"I'm going to go check in on him anyway." Barry told her.

"You can't do that." said the wife. "I didn't give you permission."

Barry blistered.  
"Oh, yeah? Your husband just attacked me and these firemen. I have every right to determine my own safety and the safety of those around me. Care to argue the point? If you do, it's off to jail for the both of ya."

Alannah just harrumphed in her throat, offended.

Barry left Roy and Johnny's sides, letting go of Sancho's cuffed wrists.

"You're leaving him?" Gage asked, indicating their peppered patient, now leaning against the side of the easy chair on the floor, streaming tears.

Baricza just smiled. "He's not going anywhere. He's too heavy to work back up onto his feet without his arms. Don't worry, I'll be right back." said Barry.

"Wait a minute! I don't feel comfortable with-" Johnny protested.

"No, Johnny. Let him go." urged Roy, the hair prickling on the back of his neck again.  
"A normal reacting child would be here. Crying or not." he said, feeling his fathering instincts acutely.

That shut Johnny up. "Oh, uh, in that case. I'll go, uh, I'll go after him to find the kid." he said, serious and soft. He got up and ran after Barry. "Barry, I'm right behind you." he announced to alert the officer into not shooting him. "Try not to fill me with a bunch of holes."

His vested back disappeared into the darkness of the hall.

Barry began calling Ryan's name loudly as he turned on light switch after light switch.

In the neighbor's yard, the bulldog began to bay once more, continuously.

Roy noticed a fan on the floor and turned it on, aiming it at Sancho's upper body. "You'll be fine. Let this air get to you. I'll wash your face off with a water bottle and that'll start helping a lot. You'll be okay."

"I'm sorry.. I'm.. *cough*" Sancho burbled. "It's the beer. I can't resist it."

Alannah was near tears but her eyes were full of love.  
"Yes, you can, dear. I keep telling you that. Start drinking the cola I buy you every week. The garage is full of it."

The husband just sobbed.

"Is he all right?" Vince asked about the pepper spray.

"Yeah, no signs of an allergy." Roy reported as he reached over into a gear box for a liter bottle of saline with which to start irrigating the husband's eyes and skin.  
"Sancho. This burn you're feeling will last only an hour or two. Just relax and don't panic. You'll recover just fine. There's no actual damage being done." he told the panting, scared drunk. Then he looked up at Alannah. "Ma'am, does he have a history of any medical conditions past his obesity here?"

"No, G*d, no. Sancho's fine that way! He just needs to exercise you stupid oaf!" she glared at him. Vince shook the cuffs he was holding behind her back, to remind her to control her temper. "Sorry, mister. I'm just a little irritated." said Alannah, shooting a nervous glance back up at Vince.

"I can see that." said Roy, not smiling. He got to work rinsing down Sancho to ease his pain.

In the last bedroom, they found him. And all was not right.

A flick of a light switch revealed a pool of bloody vomit by the child's head near his open mouth. He lay on his side, tangled up in a baseball blanket, not moving. His mother's purse lay dissected across his bed sheets.

"Ryan!" Gage rushed in and carefully tipped his head back where he lay and bent over in a listening check for signs of breathing. They were there, faint and very fast, barely adequate. Johnny shifted a few fingers to his neck. His carotid pulse was almost unpalpable. Johnny noticed the purse and some breath mint wrappers scattered about. Gage sniffed one of Ryan's breaths as it came out his faintly stained mouth. "He's been into something real bad. I'm smelling a metallic odor over the mint."

"I'll check the medicine chest." Barry said, grabbing up a book bag that rested on one of the bedroom chairs.

"Roy! Get in here with the gear! Bring the mother!" Gage shouted. "We've got a possible poisoning!"

"We're coming!" DeSoto hollered back.

Photo: Vince close by house.

Photo: Gage scared and sweaty, pinned to the wall.

Photo: Vince Roy Johnny and a man, all worked up on the street.

***************************************************  
From:patti k ()  
Subject: Iron Will Sent:Wed 8/11/10 7:14 AM

"What do you got?" Roy asked hurrying in with the first load of medical gear,  
the oxygen resuscitator and the defibrillator/EKG monitor.

"Ingestion.." Gage replied swiftly, cutting away the pale boy's clothes to look for wounds and bruises, signs of contamination or other reasons for his unconscious state. "His breathing's borderline. But he's doing it."

Roy knelt by the bed and grabbed out the suction wand to probe the boy's mouth, clearing it of all the debris. "I can't tell what this is." he said of the material.

"Certs for sure. And other things." said Johnny, holding up the wrapper ribbons of breath mints. "He's been in his mom's purse. Smell that?"  
he said, tapping the boy's cheek.

"Yeah. It's not just blood and food. There's...something metal." DeSoto said, quickly fitting a temporary oral airway into the boy's mouth where he lay on his left side along with a high flowing nonrebreather oxygen mask.

"We really need the mother in here." Johnny grumbled, baring the boy's chest for EKG pads placement. "He's already totally unresponsive to pain." Gage said,  
stringing the long leads and snapping them into place. He turned on the scope.  
"128 and tachy. Regular. I'll listen to his chest. I don't think he's aspirated into his lungs yet. He's real quiet." he said, feeling the boy's chest for lung bubbling.

"I'll go get the biophone." Roy said, his breath catching in his throat as his worry for the boy began to sky rocket upwards. "He's real bad." he said, feeling the cold sweat glistening through near bluish skin on the boy's upper body as he peeled back the boy's eyelids for a pupillary sign. "They're dilated. He's shocky."

"Yeah, tell me about it. Barry, I need those bottles!" Johnny shouted at the police officer digging through the medicine chest across the hall. He leaned in and began to listen to the boy's shallow breathing efforts with his stethoscope.

"Almost done!" Baricza replied. "Sorry. There's a ton of stuff in here, guys." he said hastily throwing bottle after bottle into the bag he had placed propped open into the small sink. "Vitamins, over the counter stomach and cough remedies,  
and five adult prescripts with no safety caps!"

"Oh, wonderful.." DeSoto muttered as he rushed by the bathroom to go retrieve the I.V. and drug boxes along with the biophone. "After you hand those to Johnny, see what's holding them up."

"Okay." replied Barry, moving even faster. He emptied the medicine chest, dumping shavers, and toothbrushes onto the floor in his haste. Then he knelt and started collecting from the bottom vanity cupboard underneath the sink.  
There, he found even more things; drain cleaner, glass cleaner, hydrogen peroxide and rubbing alcohol. "Oh, man." he said, eyeing up all the containers.

Back in the bedroom, Gage froze as he listened for breath sounds.  
"Light rales. D*mn." He left his stethscope dangling about his neck as he began to write down the vital signs he had taken onto a notepad. "Ryan, hang in there. We'll figure you out here, I promise." he said, rechecking the boy's airway status and breathing. Then he bent over for a fast BP reading with a peds cuff.

He switched the EKG monitor to audible so he could listen for changes.  
The fast beeps were still steady. ::Point in his favor.:: Gage thought, rolling the boy over enough to check his back, butt and legs for problems. He found nothing. Thinking ahead, he got an ambu bag ready for use on another oxygen line.

Vince grasped Mrs. Diaz's shoulder and guided her back onto her feet from the couch. "Alannah. Something's wrong. Your boy's in trouble."

"What?" she exclaimed, her attention instantly pulled away from her happy floor seated, handcuffed husband.

"The paramedics are with Ryan now. Come on, they need you to answer questions. Now." Howard told her, leading her by the elbow to the hallway.  
He raised his eyebrows at Roy coming the other way.

"Poisoning." DeSoto said as he hurried by them for the living room.. "Something he ate."

"Poisoning? Oh, no. Our Ryan would never do that. He..he.. knows better."  
Alannah sputtered, suddenly defensive. "My son would never do that!"  
she screamed.

"Easy, Mrs. Diaz. Right this way." Vince said, walking with her to the boy's bedroom. Once inside, his helmet hit a low hanging model airplane strung from the ceiling. It was a red baron. He swatted it aside and led Alannah over to an empty hamper. "Sit down, ma'am. Right here.  
They need room to work on him."

"Ryan!" Alannah said, trying to get to her son. Vince prevented her gently.

Gage looked up. "Ma'am. He's unconscious, and breathing. Now I'm gonna need to find out a few things from you so we can contact the hospital okay?"  
he said calmly. "Just relax a little more and don't get too excited. It's bad for the baby." he said of her advanced pregnancy.

Alannah fought to control her breathing with effort. She ran fingers through her red hair anxiously. "Okay. Uh, what do you need to know?" she trembled.

"Does your son have any allergies?"

"No. None."

"Is he on any medications right now for any illnesses?"

"No, he's a very healthy boy. Oh, G*d.. am I seeing blood?" she gasped,  
seeing the stain on the blankets next to Ryan's oxygen masked face.

Gage covered it up with part of the bed sheets. "Ma'am, his stomach's irritated from something he took. We need to find out what that might be. Can you concentrate on that?"

She nodded, and began to shiver.

"Easy." said Vince, supporting her shoulders. He kept one eye on the living room where he could see Sancho's sneakered feet still sticking out across the carpeting down the hallway. Mr. Diaz was humming a bit in his cheery drunkeness, totally oblivious to the emergency now involving his son. "Just answer the questions as best as you can."

Alannah sputtered, wringing her hands in her neat white apron.  
"Uh.. I don't know! Oh, Ryan." she sobbed, white as a sheet.

Gage snatched and held up Alannah's empty purse. "He got into this, Alannah. Do you remember what you had in here? It's important that you remember exactly what he might have been tempted to try and eat or drink."

"Nothing dangerous. I just had what you see there, makeup, my checkbook some breath mints."

"Think Alannah. Did you have any medications in your purse that he might have found?" Johnny probed, trying to keep Alannah's focus.

"No, uh. All of those are in the bathroom."

Vince noticed something on the floor near Gage's knee. He picked it up.  
"Johnny. This is a pharmacy prescription bag and a receipt. It might have been in the purse."

Gage snatched for it. "Prenatals. That's gotta be it!"

"My vitamins? I only got those this morning. They're not poisonous."  
Alannah insisted.

Gage explained. "Ma'am. These are dosed for an adult." he said, reading the label on the paper prescription receipt. "They're iron tablets. We need to know how many are still in it. Do you know what the bottle looks like? "

"No, I hadn't opened them up yet. The bag was still stapled shut. I..I..  
I only got those this morning. I've been anemic." she sobbed.

"It's okay, uh, we'll find it. Just relax." Johnny said, casting his head around for the missing bottle. "Vince? Help me?" he asked, picking up the boy into his arms to get him off the bed.

Howard immediately started stripping the sheets and blankets off the mattress from underneath Gage's lifting arms right down to the pad. Johnny eased the boy back down again, guarding his airway.

The police officer began shaking the bedding vigorously.

"Found something?" Roy asked, hurrying back into the bedroom.

"Maybe. Mom had prenatals in her purse. A new bottle." Johnny replied as he took the biophone from Roy and began to set it up on the bare mattress of the bed. "She hasn't opened them yet."  
he said significantly at DeSoto as they both glanced sidelong at her with grins to ease her worry a bit.

"I'll get a tube set." DeSoto replied referring to a more advanced airway instead of an I.V. kit.

Gage continued to smile softly for Alannah's benefit. "How long has it been since he's eaten dinner?"

"About four hours." Mrs. Diaz replied, hanging onto the dresser with a death grip.

"How long has he been alone?" Roy followed up. "For his nap?  
This is very important. We need to know how long it's been since he might have taken those vitamins."

"Are you sure that's it?" Mrs. Diaz quailed.

"Here, fellas." said Barry, entering the room quickly.

"No ma'am. We're not sure. But it's a good first guess." DeSoto replied as he took the heavy bag of medications and solutions Barry had gathered from the bathroom.

"What are all those?" Alannah asked.

"Things he might have gotten into from the bathroom." Vince said, still searching under the bed with his flashlight for the missing pill bottle.

"Do you have any medications in the kitchen?" Gage asked.

"No, nothing. I keep all of my cleaning chemicals in the bathroom because I have so many pots that I cook with in the kitchen cabinets."  
Alannah cried. "You have everything."

"You sure? Take a look." Gage said, handing her the bag.

"Yes, yes I'm sure. Please, just help my son." she sniffed, barely looking into the bulging bag of chemicals.

"Okay." Johnny said, turning back to the biophone. "Vince keep looking around the room."

"I'm on it."

"So am I." said Barry, joining Vince in opening drawers and lifting throw rugs.

There was a flash of a car's headlights through sheer lamay curtains in the bay window as a motorist turned down the street from a driveway. Roy noticed a cylindrical silhouette shadow on the window sill. "There. On the window ledge."  
he pointed.

Barry grabbed it up. "It's them. The cap's still on it."

"Dump em out." Gage said. "And count em."

Baricza did so, fumbling with the cap in his leather gloves.

Roy looked up from the boy. "Vince, come help him over here on the bag a bit, all right?" He didn't mention that Ryan's breathing had just nearly stopped.

Howard sat onto the bed and took the bag valve mask Johnny had laid out and started using it on the boy. "I've got chest rise."  
he said of his ventilations.

"Keep 'em minimal." Johnny told him. "He's nauseated."

Barry shouted. "Forty one tablets." he said, double checking his count.

Roy lifted his chin from where he was getting intubation equipment set out. "Out of how many?"

"Sixty. And the dose is 29 mg elemental iron per pill."

"Okay, got it." Roy said, writing that down. "Gather them up and add that bottle to the rest of the bunch." he said, pointing to the substances Barry had collected for them from the bathroom. Then he turned to Alannah.  
"Ma'am I have to ask. Is there any reason to suspect that Ryan may have been emotionally upset by anything recently?"

Mrs. Diaz's green eyes grew cold. "Are you telling me that my son may have been suicidal? He's only six. How DARE you!" she said rising to her feet and holding onto her pregnant belly carefully.

Barry stepped forward to intercept her.  
"Hey. He's doing his job here. It's nothing personal, Mrs. Diaz. Knowing that might help the doctors treat Ryan better when he gets to the hospital. Now sit... down..." Baricza told her, firmly following up with a grip on her shoulder.

"Ryan!" Alannah sobbed, finally breaking into fear once again.

The paramedics got to work.

"Rampart this is Squad 51, how do you read?" Gage broadcast.

Photo: Close up of a red haired house wife.

Photo: Vince and Johnny in a home on the biophone.

Photo: A spilled bottle of pills.

Photo: A boy being ambu bag ventilated.

Photo: Gage going through a medicince chest.

Photo: A little kid trying to open a pill bottle by a medicine chest.

Photo: Roy listening on a stethoscope, looking down.

Photo: CHiP officer Barry Baricza, close looking worried.

**************************************************  
From: patti k () Subject: Torch on the Porch Sent:Thu 8/12/10 6:20 PM

## Go ahead, 51.## came Dr. Brackett's reply over the intercom from Rampart.

Johnny finger snapped at Roy for his notebook for comparison. DeSoto handed it over. Johnny laid both out in front of him on the biophone's open lid and began broadcasting a patient report. "Rampart, we've a six year old, victim of apparent ingested poison. He weighs approximately fifty five pounds. He's unconscious, diaphoretic and being breath supported by ambu on 15 liters with an oropharyngeal airway. Physical signs are bloody emesis, rales in both lungs. Vitals signs: BP: 70/30, pulse is regular but tachycardic at 128, respirations unassisted were eight and shallow. He shows little response to pain. There is thin venous blood showing out of both nostrils so we have him on continuous light suction while in lateral left side positioning. Additionally, there are signs of cyanosis despite the high oxygen ventilations along with very slow capillary refill at the fingernails. Pupils are dilated. Abdomen is soft on palpation in all quadrants. There are no apparent signs of physical trauma or bruising on the skin. He has no known allergies and last food intake was four hours ago. Standing by to send you a strip."

##51, sounds like he may be hemorrhaging internally through the stomach and internal organs. Go ahead with your EKG telemetry. Do you have any clue as to what he may have ingested?## Kel asked, biting on a pencil eraser. He stared holes into his notebook as he thumbed down his talk button.

Johnny replied.  
"Rampart, we have a best guess of prenatal vitamins. We found nineteen missing adult iron supplements from a new prescription bottle. However,  
we can't be sure as to exact cause as there were a large number of unsecured medications and chemicals found within a child's reach a very short distance away from where he was found."

##Bring those in as well. Does he have a gag reflex?## Kel asked as he carefully reviewed Ryan's EKG strip noodling out of the transmitter.

"Stand by, Rampart." Johnny said, setting the phone over one shoulder. "Vince, hold off a second." he said, asking the officer to pull away the bag and mask for a moment.

Gage leaned over and purposely ran the suction wand in a little deeper to the back of Ryan's tongue in a test. The boy did not react to the stimulation.

"That's a negative Rampart." he replied, picking up the phone again from his shoulder.

##Intubate him with a peds E.T. to secure a better airway. Keep maintaining light suction to continually handle heavy secretions. I want you to start an intraosseous I.V. through the tibia just below the knee cap. If it's iron he's taken,  
his veins are collapsing from hypovolemic shock so I want a guaranteed secure route for his I.V. meds. Give him 50 cc of 50% dextrose and water in a child 1 gm/kg dose followed by 2 ampules of Narcan, and 50 mgs Thiamine I.V. push. Then follow up with a supporting line of 5% Dextrose and normal saline, TKO. Titrate to normal systolic BP, if needed, to maintain adequate internal core pressure.##

Johnny repeated his orders back to Dr. Brackett and soon, the two paramedics got to work preparing injectable syringes and the bone gun.

Vince looked at Barry. "Let's get an eyeball on the situation outside. I felt activity on the hillside just before we came in here." he ordered Baricza.

"So did I." said DeSoto biting off an I.V. bag's wrapper.

"You did?" Gage asked, getting nervous for the first time since entering the house.

Roy nodded his head with conviction.

"Hmmm." said Howard, thinking. "Barry, keep Mr. Diaz inside until we're ready to call in the EMT ambulance for a pickup. He's better off in here if one or more of the gangs decide to come calling."

Alannah lifted a tired head. "They won't. They know we don't do drugs and love each other. They never bother us."

"They might tonight." DeSoto told her.

"Why?" Mrs. Diaz asked, wiping her frustrated, tearing eyes.

"Because we're here." Vince answered.

That quieted down the young mother more than a sedative.

Barry nodded at Vince and left for the living room, taking the rifle he had placed outside of the bedroom door with him.

At the hospital, Brackett rapped on the window of the base station to get Dixie's attention.

McCall opened the door and stuck her head in. "Kel?"

"51's got a possible iron toxicity case coming in. If he's positive for excess iron,  
I want blood drawn for a CBC with a differential, electrolytes, a serum glucose, an arterial blood gas, a PT, PTT, and a full series toxic drug screening. Also, I want a type and cross match, aminotransferases, and a bilirubin. Have them test his bicarbonate and his BUN/creatinine levels. Have X-ray standing by for an simple abdominal plate. Maybe we can spot a bezoar on films for a second confirmation on a positive I.D."

"Charcoal?" she asked, writing down his orders on a new chart.

Brackett shook his head. "It won't react. Set up for a gastric lavage of half normal saline at a 10 cc/kg rate. He's a small kid, so make it a 28 French. If that doesn't bring up anything when he gets here, set up a whole bowel irrigation with a polyethylene glycol electrolyte and deferoxamine at a 15 mL/kg/h flow rate. Use a foley to speed up kidney excretion. We can use it to look for positive vin rose'. Monitor his serum pH if we need to stop the deferoxamine at some point for profusion problems. We have to make sure he doesn't retoxify with iron coming out of his tissues. Also stand by with sodium bicarbonite, dopamine, nitroprusside, and fresh-frozen plasma. He might test out as acidic."

"And if that isn't compensating fast enough?" McCall anticipated.

"We set up for a surgical intervention with an emergency gastrotomy. Schedule Joe."

"How long to you want to run in the whole bowel?" Dixie asked for the ICU's nurse's orders.

Kel bit his lip, starting to sweat.  
"Twenty hours, at least, but no longer, or his pressure will start to drop.  
Deferoxamine's a parasympathetic. We have to guard against pulmonary toxicity. He's a high candidate for acute respiratory distress syndrome as it is." he said, thinking to himself frantically.

Smiling, Dixie placed a gentle hand on his arm to calm him.  
"You know what to do, Kel, so relax. That little boy's already getting his one shot to survive this and it's starting right now with Roy and Johnny. They're the best hands you've got out there."

"You really think so?" he asked quietly, worried.

"Yes." McCall said with conviction, not looking away. "I do."

Brackett didn't say anything and he looked back down to his notes, not seeing the words he had written down for a moment, really feeling his stress.

Dixie quickly kissed him on the cheek.  
"I'll put him in One. It's closest to the entrance, Kel." Dixie promised with a reassuring grin.

"Thanks, Dix." Dr. Brackett replied with a half smile as she turned to leave. Then Kel turned back to the intercom, waiting for successful word of intubation and cannulation from Squad 51. He couldn't keep away a worried frown. ::I hate pediatric calls.:: he thought vehemently. ::I wish kids could be born fully adult. We're a h*ll of a lot easier to treat.::

Roy didn't look up from the drug box and the tape strips he was getting ready for Ryan. "Alannah, you're not squeamish are you?"

"After birthing a baby, I should think not." she declared, anger flashing in her Irish eyes.

DeSoto smiled, dipping his head in acquiesence.

Johnny glanced up at her, concentrating very hard to keep himself fast and accurate.  
"We're going to have to place a tube into Ryan's lungs to help him breathe and then we'll be securing a needle into Ryan's lower leg for these medications."  
Gage said, laying out the vials and mixtures they were going to need.

"Do anything you have to do to save my first born." she said fiercely. "Just quit worrying about me and focus on him. I only get weak if my husband bleeds, for he's not just an easy child for me to fix with simple mothering." she lilted.

Vince lifted his radio with his free hand. "Seven Charlie Six to Seven Mary David."

##Seven Mary David.## replied Baricza from his post by the front door looking cautiously out the window near the Diaz's front door. Sancho was sleeping against the chair, still upright on the floor and sitting where he had been left.

"Status?" Howard asked.

##Fog's thickening in the park. So far, unfounded.## Barry replied, being vague intentionally about his inability to spot trouble outside. ##Mayfair Five is four away with large escort.## he shared. ##E.T.A... Very soon.##

"10-4." Vince answered.

"Is that the ambulance for Ryan?" asked Alannah.

"Yeah." Vince told her. "It's less than four minutes away from us and coming closer."

"Good." she whispered. Some of the worry left her face.

Johnny began to swab down the inside groove of Ryan's upper leg tibial notch and skin with betadine. He fitted a large bore sterile needle hub into the nose of the bone gun and carefully palpated near the proper place with a gloved set of fingers to be assured of his landmarks. He pulled the trigger. Bang! Then he lifted the tool away. The hub was deeply embedded into the skin. As Gage removed the guide needle, it slowly began to ooze out dull red marrow. This Johnny wiped away with a sterile gauze before aspirating and flushing the catheter port's delivery channel with a saline syringe to clear it of materials. He quickly snapped in Roy's hastily offered flowing I.V. line and began to add in Ryan's ordered medications rapidly.

DeSoto looked up toward Howard who was bagging in Ryan's flowing oxygen.  
"Vince, hyperventilate him for a few and then help me tip his head, angled down, my way." Roy pulled on his gloves and waited. Soon Vince completed a rapid set of breaths to Gage's satisfaction. Together, both of them helped turn the boy ninety degrees until his head hung over the edge of the bed on Roy's side with his chin pointing towards the ceiling.

"What do you have out?" Johnny asked his partner.

"A 4.5."

"For a cuffed? Yeah." Gage agreed. He handed over the active suction flange to Vince to hold ready and pulled out a curved MacIntosh laryngoscope the right size to hand to Roy from the drug box. He opened it and turned on its light.  
Then he began to hold cricoid pressure over the cartilage in Ryan's throat just under his adam's apple to close off his esophagus in a safeguarding move.

DeSoto had a fitted and bent stylus already down the French endotracheal tube and he quickly took the scope from Johnny to use. Roy pushed aside Ryan's tongue and lifted his upper palate slowly until he visualized vocal cords. "He's real wet. Looks like more blood." he reported. "But there's no obstruction." He inserted the tube's rounded end to just below them and removed the tongue blade carefully. "Okay, let go cricoid, I'm in." He held the tube in place with some finger tips over Ryan's teeth, while Johnny inflated the cuff at the bottom of the tube for him with a 10cc syringe full of air through the feeder line.

Gage put his stethoscope hubs into his ears.  
"I'll take it from you." Johnny said, grabbing the tube's head end from Roy's grip. He studied how it protruded from Ryan's mouth. "He's at... sixteen and a half centimeters." he said reading the measured marking chock exactly where the boy's teeth rested where they were loosely clenching on the tube. "Test him." he nodded.

Roy pulled off the flowing ambu bag's mask and fitted its hollow connector to the end of the endotracheal tube snugly. Then he gently squeezed in two breaths while Johnny listened with his free hand using his stethoscope over Ryan's lungs.  
"Chest rise." Gage confirmed. "Breath sounds on the right..." He moved the drum over to the other side. "But not on the left. We're too deep."

Roy lifted up on Ryan's tube in between Johnny's fingers, barely an inch, then he bagged him twice again with both hands.

Gage smiled as he listened. "Okay both sides are good." He moved the drum down to Ryan's stomach. "And...nothing over gastric. We're set." he said, keeping his airway hand very still.

"15 and a half." DeSoto shared for their notes.

"Got it." Gage said, writing it down.

Roy surrendered the bag over to Vince again and added a bite guard and tube holder using a strip of ribbon gauze tied around Ryan's head over his cheeks to keep the airway from slipping further in or out before he taped it off securely in place.

Johnny let go of the endotracheal tube gently.

"Vent him better than easy, Vince. His airway's real open with this." Roy warned. Then he suctioned out more reddish saliva before leaving it on slow draw in the space between Ryan's inner gums and lower jaw. Liquid hissed loudly for a few seconds into the catch reservoir but then softened into a healthy, dry air flow.

The burly officer nodded, using only lightly compressing fingers on the bag to control Ryan's breaths, just to the barest beginning of chest rises.

"That's it. That's how." Gage encouraged him. Johnny dragged Ryan toward him by his two bare feet until the boy's head was back level onto the bed and lying on his back.

Roy reassessed the boy's breath sounds and continued tube placement with Johnny's stethoscope. "Still rock solid after move." he announced.

Gage picked up the biophone receiver. "Rampart, this is Squad 51."

##Go ahead, 51.## Brackett said in an instant.

"All meds have been delivered push I.O. We've a patent, running colloid line and the endotracheal tube has been placed without any complica-" Johnny shared.

Brackett walked all over Gage's transmission in his eagerness to get the patient ball rolling. ##10-4. Continue monitoring his airway and vital signs. Bring him in FASTER than A.S.A.P. And that's an order.##

Johnny grinned. "Right away, Rampart."

"You heard your doctor! Move!" Alannah said, lifting her heavy bulk off the hamper.

Mayfair Five pulled into a sharply blowing night wind in the driveway of the Diaz's side of the triplex. It was surrounded by two more police cars from the city, all running silent with no emergency lights.

Sea fog made the dark neighborhood even more sinister with clouds of billowing mist.

Barry met two of the officers to explain the current situation in the house while two more escorted the EMTs and their gurney into the living room.

"Oh, that for me?" Sancho asked cheerily when he stopped trying to reach for another beer with his elbows. He seemed not to register that his hands were handcuffed behind his back.

"Take it easy, Mr. Diaz. Just stay comfortable." Baricza suggested.

"He a threat?" one of the new officers asked Barry when he saw bloody scrapes on Mr. Diaz's face and smelled pepper and beer in the air.

Baricza shook his head. "Friendly fighting. The wife was better at it than he was. Even seven months pregnant."

"Oh, really?" The cop chortled. Then he followed the EMTs into the hallway Barry had indicated.

"They're here." Gage announced, starting to gather up the gear boxes they had closed up for carrying. "Fellas, let's use that peds spine board and head block." he said without looking up as he hurried. "He's got a tricky E.T. t-" he broke off when he saw that one of the EMTs was Rosalie Arnold, Mayfair company's newest rookie. "Oh, sorry, miss. I..I..didn't see you there." he stuttered, tongue tied in front of his latest crush. "I..was doing other things.." he finished lamely.

"It's okay. My hair's short." smirked the petite fawn haired athletically built female EMT. "And I'm buff. You're forgiven."

Johnny goggled uncomfortably for a few seconds before getting down to business with securing Ryan onto the EMTs' spinal board. They stabilized him with the headblock to double safeguard his working endotracheal tube. The male EMT took over Vince's ventilation tasks on the boy. "Thanks." he said to Howard. "We've got it from here."

Ryan was covered up snugly with a light beige wool blanket after he was transferred off the bed onto the gurney. The resuscitator apparatus and its active suction was nestled in at his feet along with the EKG monitor. A brief low tone sounded on the machine.

"A PVC. Just one." Rosalie announced, turning on the EKG tracing tape to record it.

"That's uh,, that right." Johnny told her, surprised at her knowledge. "He's doing okay. I've still got a pulse down to his brachial." he said, showing her the grip he had on the boy's upper arm. EMT Arnold took the bag of medications and chemicals that Howard had been holding to take with them. "Any ideas?" she asked turning to Roy, pointing to the bag.

"Iron supplements." DeSoto replied.

"Watch for vomiting." Gage said unnecessarily. "Uh, I mean.."  
he checked himself, not wanting to offend the lady EMT of his dreams.

"I know about poisonings. Thanks." she smiled at Johnny, grinning.

Gage just about melted under her attention before he hid it again under a thick layer of professionalism.

Roy gathered up the black drug and I.V. boxes while Johnny took to carrying the orange biophone and white defibrillator cases.

They wheeled down the hallway, fully laden with their patient and their equipment.

Sancho finally noticed them. "Hey, is that my boy? Where are you taking him? What happened?" he asked trying to get to his feet in alarm. He couldn't manage it because of his obese size. Alannah stepped in to confront him, bending down to look at him in the face.  
"Love, Ryan got into something that's made him ill. He's going to the hospital. Now settle down and let these good people-"

"I'm not letting anybody take my son!" Sancho roared, not thinking clearly, shouting very loudly. "You can't do that! I'm his father! And she's his mother!"

Outside the house, his frantic shouts echoed through the wide open front door and into the rising, thick fog. The sounds were carried away in a brisk wind.

Inside, Howard attempted order. "Get him on his feet. He needs some time in Detox. I think he's too inebriated to stay at home safely."

"I agree." said Alannah, waving on the EMTs and their gurney. She dashed to a living room table for a set of keys. "These are for the house. We're locking up and we're leaving, Sancho." she told her husband. "I won our wee bout so I have the final word on the matter!"

"..if you say so, dear.." said Mr. Diaz meekly.

"So I do!" she declared, handing the keys to the city officer.

Barry shouldered his rifle and then he and the city policeman helped Diaz up, holding him steady so he wouldn't fall for being handcuffed behind his back.

Sancho's half hearted protests bubbling from his lips began to die away when the colder night air hit his wet T-shirt, making the pepper spray start to burn his exposed skin again. "Ow." he mewed, cringing in his sneakers.

The Mayfair attendants pulling Ryan, with Roy, Johnny, and Alannah, all headed outside into the darkness for the street behind an escorting city officer who had his weapon drawn.

Vince and his colleague led Sancho out between them.

Barry shut the house door and locked it firmly after turning the house lights off.

A sharp whistle from the city officers by their squad cars outside got all of their attention. Baricza and Vince's radios snapped into active life. "Heads up! We've got a problem in the park!"

Vince and Barry swiftly pulled out their guns.

"Keep going! Get into the Mayfair! All of you!" Vince ordered. "Take Mrs. Diaz with you. We're leaving Sancho here. He's too slow!" Howard said, getting himself and Sancho under cover behind a post on the porch.

Mr. Diaz looked around for a moment in a fuzzy curiosity towards the park but Howard quickly pulled the man's head back into hiding.

The city officers ran for their squad and stealth cars and opened their car doors to use as shields against gunfire.

But none came.

"What's the situation, City P.D.?" Vince demanded over his radio,  
not seeing anything at all through the clouds of streaming fog tearing itself into tatters on the brisk wind.

##Gang activity on the hill. At eleven o'clock!##

The male EMT was already in the captain's seat, continuing the boy's careful ventilations. Roy was on the rider's bench, switching out the resuscitator's power source and plugging in for fresh oxygen.  
"Oh, boy." DeSoto said feeling a very familar, much hated clench in his gut. For him, the war zone had totally awakened after his senses had picked up on a tiny thing.

"What?" Gage startled, ducking, as he finished guiding Alannah into the ambulance after her son Ryan. Then he smelled it; coming out of the thick fog, like a disease.

Fire smoke.

A faint orange glow began to light up the horizon on the hill like a cancer. It was slowly growing brighter, filling the whole sky as it advanced.

Then came the sounds of triumphant shouts and hostile heckling, all around them from the peach glowing fog, that seemed to be moving farther away into the darkness among the rows of quiet houses.

A powerful wave of gasoline stench hit their nostrils.

It was a huge brush fire, intentionally set by the fleeing, hidden gang.  
And it had been left behind to blaze out of control.

"Those little cretins! They lit up the whole park." said a stunned Alannah.

Baricza startled, coughing. The CHiP officer slammed the door of the ambulance shut protectively. "Stay there!" he shouted to all of them inside. "Don't move until I say so!"

He threw the Diaz's house keys high into the air towards Howard who caught them. The burly cop quickly bustled Sancho back inside the house and locked him in.

Then he and Barry ran into the foggy darkness for their vehicles and more equipment.

The police channel began to chatter with high paced activity between their dispatcher and the communications of the seven city officers located at the Diaz house.

One by one, all four police cars lit up into red light flashing life, with full sirens, where they idled. A loud speaker began issuing police commands for the neighborhood gang to obey in the attempt that the action would buy them all time for more help to arrive.

"...oh sh*t." said EMT Rosalie Arnold, looking up from where she was settling her patient hastily for a dubious departure. "I think that fire's engulfing the only road leading out of here."

Photo: Brackett at the biophone and EKG station.

Photo: Gage talking while setting up I.V. equipment with a stethoscope around his neck.

Photo: Johnny turning a biophone channel in closeup.

Photo: An EZ-IO intraosseous I.V. bone gun and case.

Photo: An intraosseous I.V. placed in a tibia.

Photo: Roy leaning in close, listening to breath sounds with oxygen gear in the background.

Photo: Roy holding up a pill bottle, looking worried.

Photo: A manikin getting E.T. tube intubated using a laryngoscope.

Photo: A cute female EMT, smirking with dry amusement.

Photo: A foggy horizon by the sea.

Photo: A nighttime brush fire on a grassy hill.

Photo: The back of a door closed L.. Mayfair ambulance.

**************************************************  
Date: Mon Aug 16, 2010 2:05 pm Subject: Outside The Box From: 'patti keiper'

Frightened now and coyed by the chaos around them, Rosalie snatched for Johnny's hand. He squeezed it briefly and smiled a very convincing fake smile for her benefit. "Rosalie, we'll find ourselves moving the rig for defense if it comes down to that. Nobody's gonna get through our doors." Johnny said, pointing to the windows at the back and at the side access. "Not with P.D. out there." He got up and locked all three swiftly for good measure. "You got your bullet vests on?" he asked the EMTs.

"Yeah." replied the male EMT. "The police wouldn't let us off the boulevard without wearing them. Why? Are we still in danger?"

"Not from people." Roy mumbled, keeping an eye on Ryan's EKG monitor.  
He lifted his HT. "Squad 51, L.A.. Respond a full brush assignment with police protection to Riley Regional Park north of our address. Active large group arson activity in progress. Looks like the whole hillside's been ignited."

##L.A. on P.D..10-4, Squad 51. We note your active fire. What is your current status?## asked Sam Lanier calmly.

::Smart man.:: thought Roy. ::He's checking up on our escape route.::  
"We're with Mayfair Five. We're both blocked from leaving the neighborhood, but we're not in imminent danger of direct hostilities or fire. Is there another route available out of our location? Our assigned street and cross intersection's asphalt is fully aflame by the park." he asked. He fiddled with Ryan's I.V. line unnecessarily and kept a hand on his chest as Rosalie's partner kept bagging him slow breaths by ambu through the boy's taped endotracheal tube.

##Squad 51, launching Copter Ten for visual aerial assistance. E.T.A to you, five minutes.##

"Squad 51, 10-4." DeSoto swallowed. He knew whatever driving solution there was to be had for them would be completely off the road map.

Return assignments and full fire department SCU tones blossomed over the fire channel that Gage had called up to monitor who was coming to aid them. ##Copter Ten, Station 127, Brush Truck 99, Station Eight, Ladder 24,... Engine 51. Brush fire. 1700 Beechwood in Riley Regional Park. 1700 Beechwood in Riley Regional Park. Squad 51 requires an immediate fire response at their location with Mayfair Five to obtain a patient transportation route."

"We're flying him out?" Arnold asked, gathering up Ryan's patient information and EKG strip for his run sheet as she transferred Roy and Johnny's notations to her record. It was a legitimate question.

Roy shook his head. "No place for them to land. At least, not now." he added eyeing up the very worried Alannah self consciously.

Mrs. Diaz put two and two together about their desperate situation, and got livid, fast. "If we can't get him to the hospital, he'll die? Those gangs are killing my boy!" she finally started to cry, frantic with anger, and a mother's fear.

"Alannah!" Gage said, grabbing her arms before she tried to leave the Mayfair. "Panicking will do your son more harm than good. The doctors will need your consent to treat him once we get to Rampart Hospital. And we WILL be getting there. By the fastest means possible. How are you going to do that for us if you get yourself shot up by leaving shelter?"

Alannah plunked right back down onto the rider's bench and felt her swollen stomach protectively, thinking of her second child instantly.

"That's better." Rosalie told her no nonsense. "Would you let me clean up those facial cuts you've got before the fire department breaks us out of here?" she asked Mrs. Diaz firmly."It won't do to get those infected, now will it? We're outside and getting full of soot."  
she said, snapping the peek window leading to the driver's compartment shut to cut down on smoke.

Trembling, Alannah nodded yes, cowed.

Rosalie changed her gloves out. Then she reached up into an overhead for some gauze pads and antiseptic and into another slender access bin for something else.  
"Alannah, here, put this on. It's an extra ballistics vest. Then come sit by me." she patted on the seat nearest her. Johnny Gage and Mrs. Diaz traded placed on the rider's bench so the two women could sit next to each other. Rosalie started to fuss over the mother. "I'll get you squared away in a jiffy. I've also got some water I can give you. Are you thirsty?" EMT Arnold didn't miss the agreeing nod from both Johnny and Roy about her suggestion to Mrs. Diaz.

"Yes." replied Alannah. "Seems like I'm thirsty all the time now."

Rosalie smiled. "That's normal from what I've heard." she grinned. "How far along are you?" Arnold asked companionably as she passed over an icy water bottle.

"I'm at seven months." Mrs. Diaz answered, taking a sip.

"How's the baby?" she asked about possible adverse symptoms like sudden cramping from stress.

"She's been quiet. I'm the only hyper one. Ryan was the same way." Mrs Diaz shared.

Relaxing just a bit, Johnny and Roy busied themselves over Ryan's care.

Outside, the sound of crackling fire on the wind and the stench of smoke, grew stronger.

A sharp splash of directed hose water against the ambulance's chassis startled them all six minutes later. They heard a familiar double smack from a gloved hand against the Mayfair's rear windows.

Roy flung them open. It was Cap, wearing an air bottle, but not masked. Behind him were Stoker and Marco, manning a fanning spray over the police cars to clear their windows of soot and ash. "We've got you cooling down. The fire's still across the street, but you're downwind. Gotta move you into clearer air. How are you doing in there?"

DeSoto coughed, squinting out at the teams of firefighters spreading out from the fire companies that had rushed to the scene. "Fine for now. I should ask you guys the same thing. Any sign of the gangs or active gunfire?"

"Not anymore. The police can't find them. I guess they're playing pollo literally tonight." Hank said tightly. "Can't say I like their kind of games." he said, his eyes falling on the critically ill Ryan.

"Where to?" Gage asked.

Hank pointed back behind him.  
"Not the way you came in. The tar's melted. The heat left'll pop your tires. And driving on grass is out. Trees come right down to the street on both sides of the road. There's not enough room to maneuver an ambulance this size." Cap replied. "Get ready to follow Chet in the squad. He's been told where to go next by that CHiP cruiser. Copter Ten's just come up with a plan. I think it may work real slick in getting you guys out of here to the set up landing zone for your kid's flight outta Dodge. It's both safe and guarded and away from all of this smoke."

Gage just looked at him, not figuring it out.

Stoker turned off his hose's stream that he had been using to clear off the Mayfair's windshield. Then he pulled off his faceplate mask."Fellas, she's absolutely crazy!" he said excitedly. "I think I'm in love. Just wait until you see what our pilot's got planned."

"What?" Johnny asked, totally clueless.

Squad 51 and Mayfair Five travelled nimbly around clumps of washout debris and small rivulets of hydrant water being used by the fire crews above them. They moved in darkness, with no lights, along the L.A. Riverbed. They were following just behind Copter Ten's tracking spotlight.

"This works." Johnny admitted grudgingly to the others. They were on the way to Griffith Park and the wide concrete levee that served the waterway on three sides. It was there that the helicopter would land to uptake Ryan, his mother, and both paramedics. "And we'll still get to Rampart without losing any more time." He lifted the biophone. "Rampart, Squad 51. We're coming in by air. E.T.A..."

"Eight minutes." Roy supplied, where he was talking with Chet using their intratruck channel.

"...eight minutes." Johnny said neatly. Then he turned to Alannah.

##We'll be standing by, 51.## came Dixie's calm reply.

Johnny studied Alannah's face, instructing her. "Mrs. Diaz. The bird's gonna be cramped and tiny. There's only one way we're gonna be able to take both you and Ryan on that flight."

"I'm listening." said Mrs. Diaz.

Roy explained. "You're going to have to ride in a stokes stretcher, lying down. That's the only way to fit everyone on board."

"That's okay. I promise I won't be napping this time." she said, trying a weak joke. She gripped Ryan's hand lightly in her own. "Are we going to be billed for the helicopter?" she asked sensibly,  
her voice wavering.

"No. This was a police and fire authorized emergency evacuation." EMT Arnold replied. "Only Mayfair's ground transportation rate will apply here, by mileage. Like a taxi. And we're not going far."

"I don't care about the cost. I'll re-mortgage the house if I have to. Anything for my little Ryan."  
she said, her breath catching. She kissed his pale, limp palm.

Rosalie's face went absolutely flat. "Alannah, Copter Ten's service in Ryan's case is gonna be absolutely free. Courtesy of the gangs. The police'll take it out of their hides once their arrests are made. The charges of arson and reckless endangerment are held severely accountable in court."

Soon, Roy, Johnny and Chet, had Alannah and Ryan secure by stokes inside Copter Ten.  
They lifted off, leaving Chet alone with the squad and Mayfair in the L.A. Riverbed. As they banked over the area, heading for Rampart, Gage saw Baricza in the CHiP cruiser joining them to show the fireman and EMTs the way out at another locked neighborhood access gate. On the hill, in nearby Riley Park, he could see fire crews successfully stopping the brush fire. It would be extinguished long before it jumped the street to threaten any of the residences there.

##Seven Mary David, Copter Ten. Safe flight all.## radioed Barry as they circled in the night sky, reorienting to their chosen flight coordinates to the northwest.

"10-4, Seven Mary David. Squad 51, out." said Johnny over his HT.

Roy leaned down over Alannah's stokes and smiled. "Not long now." he told her.

"Good." she said. A tear leaked from the corner of Mrs. Diaz's eye. She wiped it away and turned her head to watch her son as Roy breathed for him using the bag valve mask in his hands.

Five minutes later, the helicopter was safely night landed at Rampart.

Dixie met Ryan's gurney swiftly, leading Johnny, Roy and Alannah Diaz into Treatment One. "This way." she said. "Respiratory's standing by." she told DeSoto about an awaiting ventilator machine. She grabbed up Ryan's upper arm in a brachial artery check. "It's absent."

Gage confirmed her finding. "His pressure's fifty over thirty two. Carotid's still strong though."

They got through the door and moved Ryan to the treatment bed, exchanging oxygen, EKG lines and suctioning sources. There awaited Dr. Brackett,  
Joe Early, a phlebotomy nurse, a respiratory therapist and a team from X-ray, already apron garbed to handle Ryan.

"This is Ryan Diaz, age six. Found unconscious with no gag on arrival. Last food four and a half hours ago. This is mom." Gage reported aloud to the room.

Kel began to snap out orders. "Once he's on the bird, and all bloods are drawn, clear the room." he told everyone.

"But.." said Alannah.

"Ma'am, even you. It'll only be for a minute. We need to know what's in Ryan's stomach for sure and a good way to do that, to rule in or out iron ingestion, is to get some films. That'll be a faster lead than just waiting for his lab work." Dr. Brackett told her as he dug through the collection bag Johnny had handed to him to retrieve the prenatal tablets bottle. "Only heavy metals demonstrate radiopacity. These tablets will show up on an X-ray very clearly if that's the case." he said, passing it off to the RN holding Ryan's drawn blood tubes to run to the lab for tests. He set the rest of the bag, onto the floor underneath Ryan's bed for safe keeping.

The nurse fled the room with her samples tray.

Joe Early finished looking at Ryan's pupils and listening to his chest. "He's crackling."  
he said, glancing at Roy. "His pupils are blown almost completely now."

"Those are the same rales we noted on arrival." DeSoto reported. "His eyes are a new change. They were only 4 mm diameter on takeoff."

Dr. Early turned to the respiratory therapist at Ryan's head. "What's his PSO2 levels?"

"Blood oxygen levels...ninety three percent." reported the tech. The man glanced at another dial on the automatic ventilator now attached to Ryan's airway. "And ETCO2 is 32 mm Hg."

"Normal." Joe remarked, palpating Ryan's abdomen. He found a new rigidity over his epigastric region. "I'm finding more signs of internal hemorrhaging here. All right, I'm guessing his wide pupil dilation and new shock is from partial vascular collapse. Dixie, get him into mast trousers following the X-rays. We need to get his systolic back up to at least ninety. Go ahead and set up that whole plasma. He may need it if his values come back grossly abnormal."

Gage finished getting another set of vitals. "BP 48/22. Pulse's barely viable at the carotid. 134." he glanced up. "Occasional PVCs with PSVT on scope."

The respiratory therapist sitting at Ryan's head chimed in. "Bird's set to 12 a minute, lower tidal volume." he said, suctioning out more liquids from Ryan's mouth around the endotracheal tube.

"Keep it there." Kel ordered. "We need to get him stabilized."

"Heavy secretions continuing." the tech added. "Pink, frothy. Blood evident."

Joe looked up. "Dixie, give him 1 mg epinephrine 1/1000 I.V. Push. Let's dry him out a little lungwise."

McCall moved over to the crash cart and retrieved the medication. Then she cleaned off the injection chamber hanging over the bone stabbed I.V. line in Ryan's leg and used it. She turned up its flow rate to wide open to deliver the medication she had given the boy, rapidly. "Epi's in." she said aloud.

"Good. Should make a difference for you, Carl, real soon." said Kel to the respiratory tech.

Soon, Ryan was ready for his X-rays and all but the two X-ray technicians were kicked out of the room.

Roy and Johnny Gage uptook the gear they had left outside of the door. "Need us for anything further?" Johnny asked Joe and Brackett, standing with Alannah in the hallway just outside of the treatment room doors.

"No, go on ahead. We'll handle him from here. Make sure you do a very detailed report on this one. The tiniest scrap of information might be important in this case." Dr. Brackett told him.

"Thanks, fellas, for everything. I'll let you know, okay?" Mrs. Diaz promised, looking to Dixie who nodded that she could keep Alannah in touch with the paramedics.

"You bet." Johnny smiled.

Roy waved a farewell, shifting his HT into his other hand. He bowed his head respectfully at Mrs. Diaz.

Together, the two paramedics turned around the corner to stop at Dixie's desk to resupply their gear and fill out their replacement requisition forms.

Dr. Brackett led Alannah over to a nearby chair outside of the treatment room and both he and Joe sat her down. They crouched by her knees to get to her at eye level.

"Want some coffee or more water?" Dixie asked, pointing to the plastic bottle that Mrs. Diaz still held in a death's grip in one of her hands. The container was nearly crushed in two.

"Oh. Sorry." Alannah said, barely noticing it there."Uh, no. I'm fine. Thanks."

Dr. Brackett met her eyes. "Mrs. Diaz. I'm gonna be frank with you about Ryan's situation. Things are very serious. Ingestion of iron in doses greater than 20 milligrams for each kilogram of body weight typically produce symptoms such as abdominal cramping, blackening of the stools, diarrhea, constipation, nausea, and vomiting. Ingestion of amounts greater than 60 milligrams per kilogram can cause internal hemorrhage, decreased blood pressure, and dehydration. Ryan is demonstrating the signs for at least the sixty milligrams per kg concentration so far."

"Well,...what does that mean?" Alannah asked, shaking her head at the two doctors.

Joe spoke up. "A dose greater than 180 milligrams of iron per kilogram is very often lethal."

Alannah, sucked in her breath, and wrapped her arms about herself. Dixie sat down next to her and hugged her lightly by the shoulders in encouragment.

Dr. Brackett went on. "Iron poisoning is divided into four phases. The first phase occurs in the first few hours after ingestion and involves acute gastric disturbances. The effects on the GI tract are due to the corrosiveness of the iron solution and include vomiting, diarrhea and abdominal pain. If the iron is extensive, the mucosa of the upper GI tract may become hemorrhaged, wherein the vomit and stools will become red or reddish-brown with blood. If excessive blood and fluid is lost, the person who took the supplements may go into hypovolemic shock. That is what's happening to Ryan right now."

Joe continued, speaking softly. "As free iron flows through the bloodstream, the liver releases enzymes that cause blood vessels to dilate. Blood vessel dilation results in the lowering of blood pressure, which in turn can result in a coma. The blood also becomes acidic. Ryan may be at high risk of having convulsions over the next few hours. But, only a handful of iron poisoning victims die in the first phase of iron toxicity. If Ryan's poisoning is mild, there's a good chance he'll recover without experiencing any additional phases."

Brackett nodded. "The second phase of iron toxicity begins between 6 and 12 hours after the ingestion of excess iron. In the second phase, the symptoms of the first phase abate as the iron is taken up by the liver. The lull in the symptoms lasts for 12 to 48 hours. Ryan may wake up and appear absolutely normal."

"He isn't cured by then?" Alannah grinned fearfully. "Even after treatment?"

"That depends on how much iron Ryan ingested." Joe replied. "And how effective lavage, whole bowel irrigation, and ferrioxamine excretion is after we begin his continuous deferoxamine infusions."

Kel nodded. "The third phase: Iron absorbed by Ryan's tissues will start to be re-released into his blood stream. It's marked by severe shock, liver cell damage and cell death, decreased blood coagulation, low blood sugar, and renal failure. This stage has a high mortality rate, Mrs. Diaz, I'm sorry."

"...no.." sobbed Mrs. Diaz.

Brackett went on, taking her hand. "If a patient survives the third phase of iron toxicity, in 2 to 5 weeks, they will progress to the fourth phase of iron toxicity. This means that Ryan might ultimately survive, but he'll be changed permanently digestive wise. In the fourth phase, the patient develops symptoms of GI tract obstruction from iron corrosions which include pain, constipation, and sometimes nausea and vomiting and may require corrective surgery. The rest of the iron carried into his larger bones, will remain there for the rest of his life. At any time, Ryan may be re-poisoned from re-released old iron due to illness or excessive exercise, well into adulthood."

"I had no idea." she whispered, horrified, covering her mouth.

Dixie squeezed her hand in support.  
"The important thing right now is for you to stay focused and hopeful. There's every chance in the world that Ryan can be saved. He's here, isn't he?" she smiled. "And he's with the best team of doctors possible for this kind of problem. I should know, I work with them." she grinned.

Joe and Brackett looked respectful at Dixie's glance.

Alannah nodded, studying her hands and cried new tears. "Okay. Um, could you help me call the police department? I think they may be watching my husband. It's a long story." she sniffed.

"Sure. Let's go over to my desk." Dixie said, helping Mrs. Diaz to her feet.

Joe and Kel watched her go. The phone by their heads rang. Kel picked it up. "Treatment One hallway. This is Doctor Brackett."

##Ryan Diaz.## said a voice in the lab. ##Bicarbonate level of 6, K + of 5.8, and a BUN/creatinine of 40/2.8. Blood glucose is 7.7 mmol/L and white blood count is 21,800 mm3.##

"And for iron?"

##It's 800 mg/dL, doctor.## said the technician.

"Is he positive for any other kind of poison?"

##Negative. That's it. I'll send up the rest of his results A.S.A.P.##

"Thanks." Kel said, and hung up the phone. A grin widened. "We may have a chance, Joe. They found just the iron."

"What's it at?"

"800." Kel smiled, gripping Ryan's patient chart happily.

"It's still early in the game, Kel." Dr. Early frowned.

Dr. Brackett heard the treatment room door open as the X-ray team left the room with their portable machine. The respiratory tech rushed back in to sit in his place by Ryan's head to continue his job of monitoring and maintenance.

"Better too early than too late." Brackett said. "Come on, let's get back in there and give Ryan his better chance to survive the night."

Photo: Cap speaking in front of the engine in a helmet and turnout.

Photo: Roy and EMT Rosalie Arnold startled by an opening rear ambulance door.

Photo: L. F.D. Helicopter and pilot landed on an L.A. Riverbed dike.

Photo: Dr. Brackett, Dixie and a lab nurse conferring in a hallway over a patient chart.

Photo: Joe Early hurrying into a treatment room.

Photo: Night fire on a hill above a neighborhood.

Photo: Dr. Brackett conferring with a respiratory therapist.

************************************************** From: Patti Keiper  
Subject: Vignette Sent: Tue 8/17/10 12:59 AM

In the nurse's lounge, silence reigned except for the sound of Rosalie Arnold pouring herself a cup of coffee. She slowly made her way to the table where her EMT partner, Roy and Johnny sat nursing cups of their own.

Nobody was drinking.

She studied a poster stuck to the wall displaying facts about sterile asepsis, without even seeing it. "Dare I ask the question everybody's thinking about?" she spoke, not meeting eyes.

Gage looked up from where he and DeSoto were leaning with chins resting on their palms and elbows. "Yes. That's only if you don't mention any names, nor a detailed account of what you saw to anyone other than the individual's direct health care providers." Johnny cautioned.

"And only if what you say never leaves this room." Roy added. "It's to uphold patient confidentiality." he explained.

"It fits." Rosalie nodded, seriously thoughtful.

Johnny sighed and waggled half hearted gimme fingers as an invite for Arnold to speak her mind.

The flaxen haired EMT studied her cup in minute detail and didn't look away. "What...do you think his chances are?"

Roy blinked quickly, taken aback, while Johnny slowly started shaking his head in disapproval with a sharply lifted index finger.

"That's a trap to avoid, Miss Arnold." Roy smiled kindly, steadier now.

Johnny agreed. "Umm hmm. Don't even go there or all you're gonna do is beat yourself up into a completely miserable, emotional wreck, in about two seconds." Gage said vehemently, remembering his own extreme discomforture trying the same thing in his earlier paramedic days.

"Really?" Arnold asked, genuinely surprised at their answers. But then she got mad. "But I thought I was being paid to care." she snapped.

"Not that much." Johnny said empathetically.

Arnold's rage turned into brimming tears of self doubt and worry over the tiny patient she had helped transport to a helicopter a scant half hour before.

DeSoto helped ease the sting. "Miss Arnold. Johnny's right, as harsh as it sounds. We all have to learn how to focus solely on the job at hand and nothing else, no matter how crazy it gets, for the good... or the bad."

Gage nodded apologetically. "Especially with peds calls. They... can be really bad sometimes." he said, rewarming up his untouched coffee from the pot. "Kind of like now." he admitted.

"It takes a few years to toughen up your skin." Rosalie's EMT partner shared. He shoved a box of kleenix her way.

Sniffling, Arnold drew up a few tissues to mop her face. "Does it ever get any easier?"

"No. It never does." Johnny said honestly, staring off into the distance. He shoved aside the report he had been writing about Ryan Diaz. "But you do seem to...recover a little bit faster each time from the lumps that do get ripped out of you during the bad ones."

"Does this hurting ever go away?" she sobbed, still feeling her very early grief effecting her.

Roy shook his head. "You just sort of...change the way you think about it until it eventually becomes something you can cope with rationally. Then,  
afterwards, you find you can reorient and somehow work better the next time, on the next one."

Johnny let out a small smile, meant to be reassuring. "I decided long ago, that giving someone who was dying,..that one last shot,.. to try and make it back,.. was worth feeling like I had all pain in the world for a little while." he told her simply. "That was when I actually realized that I really loved doing what I do. Just like that, after three long years working as a paramedic.  
That year and ever since, most of my stress, evaporates away during peds calls. I still get the dry mouth and the sick stomach, the trembling fingers and the pounding heart. But finally, I could focus on knowing what I had to do." Gage met the young woman's eyes self consciously. "I..I.. didn't mean to offend you earlier. I...just sometimes have trouble expressing myself exactly the way I'd like to."

Rosalie's glance slid over to Roy, who lifted his eyebrows in subtle confirmation as he sipped from his mug. Convinced, Arnold set a hand on Johnny's arm, where it rested on the table. "It's okay.  
I can tell you didn't mean it."

"Friends?" Johnny asked timidly.

"Friends." she beamed back, finally wiping off her wet cheeks.

"Good." he said finally.

Photo: Rosalie looking distressed.

Photo: Roy and Johnny looking very serious while listening in an office.

Photo: An unconscious child on oxygen and on ECG in a hospital bed.

**************************************************  
From:patti k () Subject: The Changing Of The Guard.  
Sent:Sun 8/22/10 12:22 AM

It was five a.m.

"Man,.." said Johnny, rubbing his sleepy face. "Feels weird not coming here in a squad."

Roy yawned as they both made their way to Dixie's reception desk in the E.R. at Rampart. Both were wearing jeans and western shirts. "Don't fret. You'll soon be coming here in an ambulance. Probably more often than you do in the squad." DeSoto mumbled.

"You think so?"

"Yeah. Think about it. They respond to at the very least, all the same calls we do." DeSoto reasoned.

Gage stopped in his tracks, cold. "Does Mayfair company get even busier than our fire department?"

Roy offered a scoffing look of incredulity. "They sure do. Nursing home runs,  
invalids that need to go from their houses to doctor's appointments, standbys for sporting events.." he began to list off.

"That'd be kind of fun.." interjected Johnny.

Roy went on, "..crime scene body recoveries.."

"Not so fun." said Gage, crestfallen and more than a little dismayed.  
"Why wouldn't a hearse do that?"

DeSoto applied his knowledge. "They gotta get to the county medical examiner's office for further forensics and an autopsy for an official cause of death.. before any wake." Roy emphasized.

His partner held up mildly defensive hands. "Roy.. Roy? Would you just shush? We just got done with a hearty breakfast." he protested.

"You're not the squeamish type." DeSoto countered, miffed.

"Who's not squeamish?" asked a silky feminine voice.

It was Dixie, wearing a stylish navy and bone powersuit. She was carrying three mugs by their handles in one hand and hefting up a huge steel coffee pot in the other. She joined them with her pilfered java with an offered invite and a smile.

"Never mind." Johnny scowled as he eyed up his partner with disgust.  
"It's not a decent conversation for this early in the morning."

"Uh huh." harrumphed McCall. "Well, then, I guess I didn't miss anything." she decided, her still very happy grin not faltering one iota.

Johnny cleared his throat, just begging a question but feeling self conscious enough not to ask it. So Roy did.

"You look nice." said the older paramedic. "Going to a meeting?"

Dixie smirked. "Sure am. I'm going with you guys to the ambulance garage." she said matter of factly. She distributed the coffee mugs to the two of them and started pouring. "Bon appetit. I figured we're all gonna need a LOT of caffeine before we get the ball rolling."

Gage did a double take, both mental and physical. "Wait..wait a minute. Did I just hear you right? Do you mean to say that you're gonna be reporting in to work for us today at Mayfair?"  
he asked, surprised as all get out.

Dixie just grinned. "I'm afraid you fellas have that backwards. It's gonna be the other way around."

It took a second or two before the off duty head nurse's comment sank in.

McCall ended their confusion."Your district's battalion chief says that since I officially out rank a fire department paramedic in the real world,  
I have to be Mayfair's branch boss in your stead." she said simply.

Gage started sputtering, almost angry."That's- that's h-" he frowned,  
trying to be tactful.

Roy elbowed him subtlely. "Billing?" he whispered, sotto voce.

Johnny immediately lit up a lightbulb. "That's wonderful, Dixie!" he beamed,  
spreading his hand and coffee mug out expansely. "I mean, that's absolutely fantastic!" he gushed. Then his face got instantly serious. "For how long?"  
he fidgetted, not yet realizing that he was no longer going to have to be Mayfair's fire chief elected, walking calculator.

"Oh, just for the entire summer." Dixie answered. "Kel told me that making a sideways move might make for a great mid career blues sabbatical cure.  
So I decided to take him up on his suggestion."

"You? Feeling depressed?" Johnny gaped, gesturing.

Even Roy concurred. "That's amazing, no offense, Dixie, but I've.. I.. can't really recall the last time I've ever seen you down." he said, taking a sip from his mug.

"Emotionally that is." Gage added. "We've already seen you down medically."  
he shrugged companionably.

Dixie was wry. "I can't say I can recall that time all that much." she said, remembering the concussion she had suffered from the vehicle that had rolled over her during Roy and Johnny's beginning paramedic days. "Hope you did a good job." she remarked, shrugging right back.

Roy just snickered, almost spitting out his mouthful of coffee.

Johnny had the grace enough to look unoffended. "Uh huh. So,.. Just how big is your office gonna be?"

Dixie nodded sagely. "Certainly bigger than your office inside of a working Mayfair, don't you think?" she winked, finally heading for the garage access to the side of the emergency entrance.

Johnny suddenly felt like he had been had.

Roy patted him on the shoulder in sympathy. "Try not to think about it so much." he comforted, and followed Dixie's lead. "It's probably a good thing that she's taking over for ya."

"But I thought the senior man.."

"Woman.." Roy corrected.

"..woman.. had to stay on the rigs..." Gage said, confused. "..to train all the EMTs."

"Apparently, we're good enough." DeSoto replied, hurrying a little, to escape his much too over occupied, beleaguered partner. "Come on, let's go start our new careers, shall we?"

Photo: Roy and Johnny wearing streetclothes, holding coffee, looking miffed.

Photo: Dixie eyeing up someone sleepily, wearing long hair.

Photo: A front door entrance to an ambulance company.

Photo: A view of closed ambulance garage doors at night near a flagpole.

Photo: An open lit garage full of a fleet of Mayfair ambulances and crewpeople.

**************************************************  
From:patti k () Subject: New Eggs Sent:Sun 8/24/10 8:45 AM

Dixie, Roy and Johnny were chattering away animatedly, huddled in a bubbly laughing group, when they went walking into the main office and training wing of Mayfair Ambulance's home base.

McCall said, "As a manager, my duties can include: responding to EMS calls, assisting with training, vehicle and equipment maintenance, cleaning..."

"Cleaning?" asked Johnny, surprised.

"Yes, cleaning. Everybody gets the grunt work, not just the rookies." Dixie glared mildly. She went on with her list."..restocking, billing,  
data entry..."

They stopped dead when they saw who and what greeted them. All twenty four newly hired Mayfair EMTs were lined up in rows of plastic chairs. They were very quiet with all of their hands folded dutifully in front of them on their laps on top of their orientation folders. Not one hand was holding a cup of coffee, despite the bubbling pot someone had going invitingly on a nearby table.

Dixie set her hands on her hips. "Oh, my, my, my." she chided with amusement for their benefit. "This will never do, will it boys?" she asked of Gage and DeSoto.

Johnny began to smirk. "Uhh.. nah." she shook his head. "It's been twenty years since any of us were in grade school. Come on, Roy,.."  
Gage gestured. "I see at least fifteen couches in here gathering dust over by the entertainment center."

Roy nodded. "Arrange them in a circle? Gotcha. Come on, everybody,  
we're ordering pizza." he said, tossing his head at the EMTs watching them.

That stunned the starch and pressed new employees wearing white uniforms. One was brave enough to speak up. "But it's only a little after five in the morning, sir." he said.

McCall just made a dismissive wave and snorted. "You passed all of your skills and final written tests, haven't you?"

The seated two dozen EMTs nodded.

Dixie grinned wolfishly. "Then you're officially professional medical folk as of right now and we're famous for being able to eat anything, anywhere at any time of the day or night. Gather round, we're taking orders." she snapped with authority.

That finally broke the ice and the chatter, began.

Photo: Dixie wearing a power suit with long hair.

Photo: A rec room with comfortable couches and a wide screen.

Photo: Roy and Johnny in western shirts looking incredulous.

Photo: An open ambulance garage at night.

Photo: A city scape as seen from hill top at night.

**************************************************  
Subject: Early Risers From:patti k ()  
Sent:Tue 8/31/10 3:39 AM

One young man spoke up. "So you're paramedics, DeSoto and Gage?" he began, reading off of his notes.

Roy nodded. "That's right. Mr.-?"

"Stanley Dubois." he offered, pushing his glasses up a little higher onto his face. "Call me Stan."

Johnny inclined his head as well.

The EMT folded his arms. "We've all heard that our probationary period's gonna be tough, patient skills wise, in the ambulance, right off."

DeSoto smiled. "Oh, not so much, Stan." he shrugged."Maybe once or twice, we'll have you all try to confirm what the station paramedics have already concluded, during transport, about a patient's condition. A paramedic will pretty much be guiding you as to what needs doing for the more serious cases. This job is nothing to worry about, except perhaps, learning the county street map." he joked, pointing to one wall where one displayed prominently by a chalk board.

"Now that's a lifetime commitment." Gage piped up. "And a real challenge. Mayfair's service area, like the fire department, is beyond huge, covering everything from inner city neighborhoods to isolated mountainous rural areas that you can only navigate by using canyon names and directionals sometimes triangulated by a chopper to find your bearings."

"I'm up for it." said the cheerful young man, wandering over to it. He drew out a small camera and snapped a picture of the map. "I'm gonna blow this up and stick it on my own wall at home. I think the garage is big enough." said Stan.

The room full of folks laughed.

Another employee spoke up, "Are we actually starting work today?"  
a woman asked. "On the ambulances, with patients?"

DeSoto shook his head.  
"At first, for a few days, army corpsmen will be handling all the non-  
precepted calls assigned by dispatch. They're doing so right now."  
he said, sweeping a hand over the half empty ambulance garage. "Eventually, everyone will be scheduled a ride along shift with either Johnny or I, to learn all the duties. Some will start a little sooner. This week. And all the rest before the month is out. We've scheduled the order based on previous patient care experience. That way, Mayfair can get their new Los Angeles County acquisition numbers up to snuff in the quickest time possible." Roy said. "Until those shifts happen, the rest of you will be going over the supply inventory in detail on each ambulance in the fleet while you await your turn. The only thing that differs equipment wise between them all, is what you'll be driving."

One very young beefy man, piped up. "And that'll be fast and furious, code three!" he crowed.

"May I have your name, sir?" McCall asked, studying her attendance chart.

"Mel. Mel Turner." he replied.

"Well, Mr. Turner. Sorry to disappoint you. The answer to your comment is a definite no." Dixie eyed him up evenly. "All company vehicles will be driving the speed limit at all times. There'll never be cause to hurry. For every ambulance on duty will always be two minutes away from its nearest neighbor on the distribution grid. Your lights and siren while in use are only asking permission to enter intersections out of signal light turn, is that clear?" she pegged the hot rod type. Her role as manager was suddenly crystalized for him.

"Sure ma'am." said Mel respectfully. "I got it. It's cool."

Another attractive looking hispanic man standing near his blond haired, shorter western garbed friend spoke up. "Law enforcement's been known to ticket ambulances for speeding."

"During an emergency call?" asked a slightly built petite gal. "Hi, I'm Daisy Hoolihan."

"No. Of course not." replied Rosalie Arnold told her kindly. "I've heard of some of my colleagues getting warnings before, but only after they've arrived at the hospital and were completely unloaded."

"That's right." replied the first darker skinned man. "Or sometimes, they'll receive actual citations."

The eye glassed Stan spoke up. "You sound like you know this for a fact, sir." he observed keenly.

"I do. I'm from the California Highway Patrol. My name's Frank Poncherello and this is my partner, Officer Jon Baker."

"Well, what are you doing here?" asked Daisy. "Shouldn't you be out on your motorcycles ticketting automobiles or something, Mr. Poncher..Poncherell-?"

"Call me Ponch, please." he smiled, waving, with a polite grin. "It's easier."

Jon Baker scratched his head thoughtfully around his cowboy hat. "We joined an EMT training program two months ago at UCLA and we've just graduated, ma'am." Baker shared. "This opportunity for us with Mayfair is not an actual career switch, just a visit to see how things work and operate once sick or injured folk have actually left one of our highway scenes. It's something we've never had the chance to experience in any great detail before in real life. We're usually too busy to watch what happens once all the excitement's over."  
"Oh, so before now, you guys got to do all that heroic stuff only, eh?" Daisy winked, teasing. "I read about CHiPs officers saving the day all the time in the newspapers."

Jon Baker and Ponch had the maturity to stay humble. They didn't encourage the young lady's infatuation one bit and stayed all business.

Gage cleared his throat."Yes, well. We're glad to have ya." he said, offering his hand to Ponch and Jon. "We weren't sure exactly when your superiors were gonna cut you loose from your regular work shifts. All we heard was that two highway patrollers were coming in from Burbank Headquarters sometime soon."

"Wouldn't make any sense to start later than the usual, Mr. Gage." Ponch told Gage, grasping his hand in greeting. "We didn't want to miss out on anything." he grinned.

"Welcome aboard." said Roy following suit.

Dixie did likewise, shaking their palms one by one. "Gentlemen." Then she addressed the room at large. "Okay, everybody, gather round. I'm the order taker for all of our pizzas. Follow me once you've grabbed something for yourselves to drink."

"She's the financier." Johnny winked at McCall. "Owns your paychecks!" he teased.

"Johnny, don't push your luck." she retorted in mock, disappearing into her office on the other end of the garage away from the rec center wing. "The bills might pile up enough to need help real soon."

Roy wandered over to a large refrigerated cooler near the wash bay and opened it. "In here's soda, water and-"

"Hey! Milk!" said Stan. "Thanks. I missed breakfast this morning." he said, scooping up a couple of cartons.

"This will always remain full." DeSoto finished. "And yes, it will be searched periodically for after shift alcohol storage. None of that's allowed on property, ever, even inside the trunks of your cars. Mayfair's county property now. Everybody, got that down pat?"

A round of comprehending nods blossomed.

Mel was thoughtful. "Yeah, party at home." he said seriously, in appreciation.

Ponch snatched up a Cola and one for Jon. "Hey, partner." he said. "Think fast." he said arching a bottle up over his head.

Jon Baker caught it neatly. "Thanks, Ponch. Shall we go order?"

"Jalapenos, here I come!" said Poncherello, joining the line that was starting to snake out of Dixie's office as she wrote down people's preferences.

Johnny Gage and Roy DeSoto just watched, leaning on the table containing the untouched coffee pot. "Looks like the three of us are the only ones who're gonna be addicted to coffee." he said, lifting the pot ruefully to top off his chilling mug.

"Don't count your horses before they're in the barn." DeSoto chuckled. "Just wait until our recruits have a few graveshifts in under their belts. They'll be grabbing for the nearest source of caffeine before ya know it." Roy said, holding out his own for a refill.

As if on cue, the early morning quiet was shattered by the start of a busy day of dispatch calls over the loud speakers. ##L.A., Mayfair Twelve, single car crash. Two occupants have been extricated by fire department personnel in stable condition. PCH off ramp northbound at Sepulveda. PCH off ramp northbound at Sepulveda. Time out : 0549.##

Roy DeSoto and Johnny Gage caught the wave of the passing pair of corpsmen in Rig Twelve as they pulled out of the garage. Johnny saluted them, military style, and was return saluted crisply to show him how it was done, in mock.

Gage just chuckled and ansed in embarrassment. "I'll never get that down right." he grumbled.

"Never will until you join the Army." DeSoto said, shaking his head. "Here's to Mayfair and a new beginning." DeSoto said, toasting the air and the newly painted garage surrounding them.

Photo: Two Mayfair EMTs wearing white.

Photo: An ambulance garage with an EMT standing inside.

Photo: CHiP Officers Frank Poncherello and Jon Baker, grinning, in uniform.

Photo: Roy and Johnny smiling and laughing in their fire department jackets.

Photo: Dixie grinning in a business suit.

Photo: A hot pizza being dished out.

Animation: The back of a Mayfair ambulance, lights flashing.

***************************************************  
From: patti k  
Sent: Sat, September 4, 2010 10:53:28 AM Subject: Progress..

Johnny led the new employees to the first parked Mayfair ambulance in a row and casually opened all of its doors,  
one by one while he talked. He glanced up at the six EMTs shadowing him. His smile grew even bigger when he saw that Dixie had assigned Rosalie Arnold with him instead of Roy. His whole body radiated an unconscious swagger as he tried to impress her with nonverbals. "This shouldn't take long." he said to the group as he moved slowly about the displaying ambulance. He hung on a door handle matter of factly as he faced them. "Folks, in here's the basic equipment you already know from your skills and practice sessions: oxygen, splints, a backboard, suction. What you won't be seeing are the more advanced things like a pharmaceuticals box beyond activated charcoal and glucose, or a Tetronix monitor." he said,  
pulling the double access hatch open.

The group of EMTs started chuckling. Gage, who was leaning on the door with his back to the patient care cab space, was clueless.

Rosalie covered her mouth politely, coughing. "Oh, you mean like that EKG machine right over there?" she asked, pointing over his shoulder.

Johnny's cocky grin immediately wilted into one of confusion, until he turned around. Then his mouth flopped open in utter stupefaction. The inside of the Mayfair was stuffed with gadgets,  
devices, bulging supply bins and fancy state of the art life support gear. Clear glass bins full of airways, I.V. solutions, tubing sets,  
splints and dressings of all shapes and sizes and even an advanced O.B. kit. "Wow!" Johnny said, climbing in. "Everybody get in here!  
This is.. this is great!" He eyed up a white defibrillator and opened it. It was the same Datascope MD2J the fire station squads carried.  
Then his forehead wrinkled. "We have everything we could ever possibly need at any scene?" he gaped, surprised at the sight of all the paramedic gear surrounding him. He held up a finger. "Excuse me a sec. Could you just wait a minute for me? Feel free to dig around anywhere you'd like to." He popped open the side access door and set a foot onto the sharps catch bin shelf and a railing. He stood up until he peeked over the roof of the ambulance until he spotted Roy and his first group already swarming over their own newly restocked ambulance. "Hey! Roy!" he shouted.

"Yeah?" DeSoto said, pausing in his lecture at the back of his door splayed Mayfair, a Modular Two type.

"Did ya see what they've done? This is incredible!"

"Yeah! I already knew about it." Roy yelled back, cupping his hands around his mouth. "Didn't you get the memo?" he asked.

"What memo?" Gage said, gripping two of the dome lights to keep his precarious perch on the door and struts.

Dixie McCall appeared and tugged on one of Johnny's pants legs firmly. "No climbing on the equipment, not unless you're in the middle of an active resuscitation or something and there's no other room to work." she chided.

Johnny clambered down and joined his eagerly chattering EMT throng who were like kids in a candy store, emptying out bins and showing each other the nifty gadgets and things they knew nothing about from the pile they had gathered together onto the stretcher from storage.

"What did they do?" he asked Dixie about the stunning outfit. "I'm utterly speechless."

McCall smiled demurely. "Isn't it obvious?" she shrugged, sitting onto the top step of the ambulance's cab. "They did away with supply nurses."

Johnny choked in shock, trying to hide his happy reaction. "That's terrifi-I mean, that's horrible. Somebody lost their job for this change?"  
he said, pointing vaguely at the row of rigs surrounding them.

"Johnny Gage." Dixie said, looking at him sideways while she enjoyed the enthusiasm of the EMTs exploring all the compartments. "Nurses do far more than just issue replacements to fire department paramedics after every run. That duty used to be our replacement chore, only because the hospital's pharmacy department was always too busy to handle it. The county did this because it got too tricky keeping straight, between all the hospitals, which fire department squads were using what the most, for ordering." Then her face quirked and she leaned in mischievously. "You do know that afterwards, you're gonna be stuck putting everything back exactly as you guys found it?" she said, tossing a head at the happy tornado carnage taking place all around them.

Johnny's look further horrified. "Dixie I- I'm so sorry. I thought we could do whatever we-"

She let him off the hook. "I planned ahead. I had Requisition label all the bins and shelves for ya. How else to keep everything precisely organized between rigs? The county figured the new EMTs could handle restocking as a closing shift duty that way, even for the things they won't be using directly for patient care. All except advanced medications. That will be the duty of any paramedic who's been put on the slightly injured list from off of regular fire department duty from now on."

"Good idea. We get hurt guys all the time."

"Including you?" she teased.

Johnny made a face and smacked her shoulder in mock. "Who keeps track of what's used for inventory?" Gage fired back.

"You do. And they do." she said happily of the EMTs. "Not us nurses. Not any longer."

"Cool." he said finally. "One less nurse chore. But who pays for all the stuff if not the hospitals anymore?"

"The patients. Each is billed according to what you check off as used on their run sheets." She plopped down a bundle of forms onto the rider's bench. "Be a hon and spread these around all the ambulances. They all go here into this slot." she said tapping such a place on the right side door. "If you need more, they're in the office in a basket right next to the coffee machine. When you guys go out and meet the rescue squads, tell them about the new forms, too, would ya?"

"Sure. It'll just be another thing to do in transit. Shouldn't be a problem."

"Good. That's one task down." she said, checking off her manager to do list.  
"Listen, I really do have to get back. I wanna keep up with the pace of things."

Johnny was thoughtful and suddenly disturbed while Dixie had fun tossing a complex oxygen regulator into the hands of a really excited EMT. "Dixie. Are you thinking what I'm thinking? About a global job change?"

"About what's coming very soon for the future? You bet." she replied. "Isn't it wonderful? Someday, some paramedics are gonna ride on ambulances with EMTs exclusively and not have to be supermen firefighters in order to do it."

"That's not gonna happen here. Nuh uh. No way." Johnny sputtered.

Dixie angled her head. "Maybe not in California. Our county's the founding force in the EMS world apparently. It doesn't like to change what works due to budget reasons. They change only when they have to."

"You mean like now with Mayfair? Because emergency runs are going up exponentially every year?" Johnny suggested.

"Uh huh." she nodded. "And kind of like how fire departments are springing up everywhere to keep up with the rise in brush fire numbers."

"How'd you know about that?" Gage asked surprised.

"I work with fire department paramedics. And boy, do they like to gossip."  
she winked, walking away with amusement. "And I thought nurses were bad."

Photo: Dixie in a manager's office outfit with long hair.

Photo: The inside of a Mayfair ambulance patient care compartment.

Photo: The captain's seat and side supply compartments in a Mayfair.

Photo: Johnny Gage grinning happily in street clothes.

Photo: Roy looking back from inside an ambulance.

Photo: A shelf full of trauma dressings and supplies in closeup.

************************************************** Date: Sun Sep 5, 2010 9:24 am Subject: The Sunday Sell...  
From: patti k

Joe Early left Treatment Five with a rueful shaking of the head.  
"Mothers.." he muttered as he walked down the hallway to the ER desk to where Sharon Walters, now a full R.N., manned Dixie's old stool. "Hey, Sharon. How's it going as interim head nurse? Those pins feeling heavy yet?"

"These?" asked the bright faced young brunette, groping at her white uniform collar. "Not a chance. I've learned from the best."

"It's that." he agreed. "Dixie's always been a great mentor. She hand picked you, you know, to eventually be groomed as her permanent successor. This is just your final victory lap proving grounds period while she's away. And when she retires in ten or fifteen years, you'll gain her spot. Did you know that?" Dr. Early asked her gently.

"I think I've always had that feeling, even when I was just a nervous Dr.-Brackett-intimated nursing student running around, crashing into people.  
In those days, Dixie was more than just my teaching R.N.. She really drove home my skills, over and over again, and never once became disappointed in me. That meant a lot to me, doctor, even when I thought I was a complete failure."

"Oh, you weren't that bad." Joe smiled, turning the rings on his fingers.  
"You didn't kill anyone with any of those hallway spills so I wouldn't worry." he joked. "Even Kel stopped cringing around you once you figured it all out."

Sharon's eyes twinkled in calm merriment, her usual coy was finally mellowed with a quiet maturity. "Wow, I still remember wearing that ridiculous blue smock back then." she chuckled. "But my easy street smile today so far as ER head probably has a lot to do with the fact that Carol and Betty are doing the schedules for me. I feel like singing like a canary for being relieved of that task."

"Yeah. But you'll gain all new ones real soon. Like heading off nervous students cowering from Dr. Brackett?"

"Got that nailed, Joe. Kel's just mean. Doesn't he remember being newly into the field?" Sharon wondered.

"No." Early grunted with amusement. "And that's part of the problem. He expects everyone to revolve around him like the moon around-"

"..Earth. Yes, I've heard the analogy." grumbled Dr. Brackett, walking up to attack the coffee machine behind Sharon. "Morning, Sharon. Joe, that's no longer true. I've told Dr. Morton to teach the nursing students the same trick Dixie taught Sharon here about me, with a glad heart."

"Solves their personality complex. What about yours?" Early asked.

"I'm G*d. I don't need to be human." Kel muttered, poring over a chart.

"Oooo." Sharon dribbled. "That sounds like a "stupid patient" re-lash."

"A what?" Kel barked. "Sorry, I'm still a little keyed up."

"A re-lash. You can't lecture the crankier, less intelligent patients who've caused their own folly so you emote to everyone around you until the effect wears off...in about three hours, twenty minutes...mark." she said, looking at her elegant silver watch.

"You know me as well as Dixie does." Kel growled, storming away after finding a second file he wanted.

Both Joe and Sharon waved toodles fingers at Kel's fake bluff and bluster and billowing white coat.

Then Joe turned back to the desk. "So. First things first. The electricians are here to start the renovation project in ICU as scheduled."

Sharon didn't even draw in a deep breath.  
"We're ready. There are four patients coming down for today, tonight and tomorrow, for us to take care of until the upgrade's done. We can put the iron tablet poisoning in Three Quarantine, the two diabetic comas into Plastic Surgery One, they won't mind being roomies, and the new car crash case into Stabilization Six. That way all our main Treatment Rooms can stay open for our normal, wild Sunday shift chaos." Walters shared confidently. "I've already shown the ICU nurses where to find everything and moved a crash cart into each room. Oh, and I've grabbed four orderlies to help control and monitor any new squad run admits from Station Eight. It's their neighborhood's smack fest junkies night on the calendar according to the notes Dixie left me."

"You're a genius." Early dipped his head. "Matching Kel's godhood status yet?"

"Bow to me. I'm finally being paid enough." she glared.

Then they both laughed.

"What's so funny? Morning, guys." said Dr. Morton.

"Us." Joe said. Then they both laughed again.

Morton just grinned, understanding immediately. "Thanks for the coffee, Sharon."

"Anytime. I like my doctors awake for Sunday." replied Walters, R.N.

"Oh, don't remind me." Mike moaned. "I'm working a double."

Joe thrust out his metal chart still tucked under one arm. "I'll trade you cases.  
Mine're easier." he dangled.

"No." Mike grumbled, almost sounding like Brackett. "I just heard Mom and son that you're curing of firecracker finger. She's still arguing away about the inadequacies of hospital and staff." he said archly. "Doesn't she know that powder burns never get third degree?"

"I told her." Joe shrugged.

"I guess it must be the dark skin staining throwing her off." Morton sighed.

"It does every time. Doesn't help that her son's still acting like his fingers are missing."

"Need a woman's touch?" Sharon asked, overhearing.

"Feel free." Mike and Joe both gestured with like hands.

"I'll be right back. Man the phones. This won't take long." she promised.

"Good luck." Morton retorted at her retreating back.

She just smiled evenly and continued on in smooth, smugless confidence.

"Uh, Mike..." said Joe.

"What?" Dr. Morton groused, still dealing with the emotional baggage of six I'm-an-idiot-so-that's-why-I'm-in-the-E.R. cases.

"Sharon's got her natural secret weapons armed and ready." Joe said.

"Oh, yeah?" Mike asked, leaning on the counter and crossing his arms as they both watched the door Sharon had disappeared into. "Pray tell."  
he said, interested. "Not a Dixie style dressing down?" He was now curious.

"Nope. It's those doe eyes and friendly teeth." Early whispered.

"D*mn. I should have been born female and Haole. That would have come in real handy a few minutes ago." Morton snorted, storming away, almost matching Dr. Brackett's earlier departure and style, stride for stride.

Joe took a sip of his coffee. "Glad I was born a Type B personality." he said, raising his mug in a subtle toast to his two doctor friends.

Photo: Nurse Sharon Walters as Rampart's ER head nurse in close up.

Photo: Joe Early and Dr. Morton in scrubs by Dixie's desk.

Photo: Dr. Brackett grinning ruefully by the base station coffee pot.

**************************************************  
From: patti k  
Date: Tue Sep 7, 2010 6:00 pm Subject: Needle In The Station Stack..

At Station 51, the gang was in the apparatus bay, doing chores.

"It's not quite lunch, Cap. Who's got KP duty today?" Kelly asked, mopping the floor. He was having fun playing keep away with Henry who was enjoying a very rare tug of war game with the mop head Kelly was sloshing around.

"You do. For asking." Hank's voice said, floating out of the office.

"Hey! No fair!" Kelly groused.

"You asked. Nobody else did." Cap interjected, still out of sight.

The others laughed, even Craig Brice, where he was checking and double checking the accuracy of the placement of red headed pins stuck into the large county map next to the rescue squad. He was matching up the station's run cards that Cap had typed out, to each location stabbed on the map.

"Now why are you doing that?" asked Bob Bellingham, Brice's paramedic partner, with mild annoyance.

Craig was unoffended. "I want to see if there are any patterns or trouble spots developing. I've noticed that in past months, areas that did not have pins positioned at one time, later develop a significantly greater frequency of emergency calls just under two weeks later, in all the empty spaces."

Bob chuckled. "Is that a fact?"

Brice nodded.

Stoker was watching the conversation with interest from where he was polishing the chrome on Engine 51."I try to predict brush fire flare ups sometimes by doing the same thing, but I can only get within a month or two for guessing future hotspots. Your theory's that precise, Craig?" he asked.

"Oh no! Don't encourage him." Bellingham moaned. "He's worse than Ga-."

Brice pushed up the glasses onto his face. "Yes. I've been keeping records for nine years, Stoker."

"Where?" Chet asked, looking at Craig as if he was a runaway science project.

Craig simply pointed to his head. "When it comes to numbers and dates, I have an eidetic memory."

"Far out." said Kelly, admiring a fellow nerd.

"Too bad it doesn't work for you and girls, Brice." Bellingham poked.

"I'm not dating, I'm already married." Brice replied.

"Oh. Guess I forgot about that." Bob said, sniffing, smiling at the others for his successful repartee.

"Just like you always forget to zip up your fly after you use the head." Brice said, pointing.

Turning red faced, Bob ducked behind the squad's front bumper, checking himself.

"Made you look." Craig said.

"You little liar!" Bellingham growled, only half amused.

"I wasn't the one who fell for it, Mr. Bellingham." Brice coughed.

"Don't challenge Brice the Ice, Bob. You'll lose every time." Chet crowed,  
laughing his head off. "That's why nobody plays jokes on him any more."

"Except for Johnny." Marco chuckled.

"Yeah?" said Stoker, laughing.

Craig nodded again.  
"Gage is a slow learner. I like a small measure of fun so I egg him on by becoming good at sporting events."

"It really pisses him off, Brice.." said Cap, still tucked away in his office doing paperwork.

"Ooooooooo." winced all the guys.

Chet smiled a cock eyed smile. "Hey, Cap, is that a warning or just an observation?" he called out.

"Depends on my mood at the time and on whether or not people are interrupting my work like some pesky, dilly dallying firefighters are doing right now." suggested Stanley.

"Being out of the room doesn't count." Chet said. "Those are your rules, Cap. I got what you said on tape in my locker." he hollered back.

Bang! The office door slammed loudly. Finally standing on Kelly's mop,  
Henry whined nervously a little afterwards.

Kelly bent down and smooched the basset hound on the nose. "Oh.  
Cap's not gonna bite, you big baby. He's all bark, Henry. Ignore him like you usually do the rest of us, pal, and you'll be fine."

Woof! said Henry.

"Now get off my mop you mutt, my shoes are getting wet." Chet said.

Henry just yawned.

"So where's the next hot spot, Brice?" Stoker asked.

"According to my data here, the block of 7th and Byron St. somewhere on the north side. It's most likely going to be a fire. They've already had five medicals transported this year."

EeeeooowwOOO000oooooo... The tones went off.

"Five dollars if Craig's right!" Kelly called out.

"Ten if he's wrong by at least a whole block!" Bob shouted in a counter bet.

Chet crossed his fingers and closed his eyes.

##Station 51. Truck 127, Engine 9. Semi truck fire. At mile marker 117, PCH northbound. Call Box 285, Pacific Coast Highway, northbound. Time out : 9:45.##

The gang started clearing out the chore debris and getting into their coats and helmets. Chet and Bob were still frowning at each other.

Cap noticed as he hurried, buckling up into his seat. "Pay up, Bobby boy. Knock those puzzled maws off your faces right now. That's right next to a warehouse on Craig's block, you twits. Learn your geography!"

Brice began to smile at his partner's suddenly thinner wallet. "This is gonna be a bad one because it's too far away from the marina for us to use as a water tap." he said, rubbing it in.

"I'm driving!" Bob groused, jerking a thumb at his chest.

"Suit yourself. Remember, don't drive angry." Craig shared happily.

"Shut up!" Bellingham snarled. "That was grocery money."

"You'll survive. And if you're in danger of not doing so, I promise I'll start an I.V. on ya. You know how good I am." Brice joked.

"Not funny, Craig. You did that to me while I was sound asleep last week." Bellingham bellowed.

"You looked dead." Brice admitted. "I thought your diabetes was acting up."

"I crashed after being up all night. Well, excuse me for being a little tired." Bob told him. "Seventeen runs on a shift will do that to ya."

"Better safe than sorry. Your Glasgow was a nine." Craig self defended.

"I'm a sound sleeper! Jeezus."

Marco was in a full smile when he called out the station. "Station 51, 10-4, KMG 365." Lopez caught Engine 51 in a leap as she was pulling out behind the accelerating squad.

Henry started barking at the sirens from his lonely spot on the water dampened floor on top of the mop, until the outer doors shut mercifully between them.

Chet looked at Cap and Marco next to him in the engine and scoffed. "G*d, they're just like an old married couple, aren't they?" he grinned widely, shaking his head.

"Guess we won't be missing Johnny and Roy quite so much around the station after all." Hank chuckled. "Those two are the perfect replacements.  
Thanks, Battalion Fourteen. Ya chose wisely."

Photo: Chet mopping the floor near Roy by the squad.

Photo: Cap standing in his office, on the phone.

Photo: Craig Brice, standing in the apparatus bay.

Photo: Paramedic Firefighter Bob Bellingham in close up.

Photo: Stoker and Marco laughing by the engine.

Photo: Henry, standing on concrete, barking up at you.

Photo: Station 51 driving down a narrow alleyway to a freeway system.

**************************************************  
From: patti k ()  
Subject: The Magnification Factor Date: Thurs 9/9/2010 6:58 PM

Engine 51 crested the top of the hill leading into the next suburban valley. A high plume of fire, glowing orange, greeted them over the treetops of well sculpted Joshua populars lining the freeway system.

"Oh, Lordy." Cap exclaimed. "Why does the public always under report these things?" he yelled in dismay. He snatched up the CB mic into a glove. "Engine 51, L.A., approaching our scene from the east along Wilshire Boulevard and 223rd St. I'm seeing evidence of low brush incineration and white smoke. Looks like the hillside's gone up. Respond a full brush assignment and a third alarm to our incident." he ordered.  
"I will let you know casualty numbers as soon as I know them. I suspect further vehicular involvement. Traffic is backing up into a parking lot."

##L.A., Engine 51. 10-4. I copy your truck fire escalating into a wildfire.##  
reported Sam Lanier. ## *BEEP*BEEP*BEEP* Trucks 29, T11, 32, 35 and 519. Engine 51 reports a brush fire and probable secondary MVAs at their incident. Report to Engine 51 as your incident command base for assignments. Division One's Battalion 14 is en route.## hailed L.A. Then Sam returned onto the air. ##L.A., Squad 51...##

Brice came over the airwaves to answer Headquarters. ##Squad 51,  
L.A. We copy your transmission.## he said with a puzzled voice.

##Squad 51. All other paramedic units in the vicinity are tied up on other responses. I've put Mayfair ambulance company on triage alert status as your backup. Report to them on Tact Three with victim totals, patient conditions and locations.##

##Squad 51, L.A., ten four.## said Craig, acknowledging. ##Switching one of our HTs over to Mayfair Tact Three.## he replied, nodding at Bellingham that he had done so on his own handy talkie. ##Squad 51 off main.## "So it looks like we're the search and rescue IC." he told Bob. "I'll remember everything precisely." Brice nodded seriously as he hung up the CB mic.

"That's probably why you were chosen. Sam's real smart. He really knows his personnel's strongest abilities on any given day." Bob eyed up the building blaze on the horizon that did seem to be framing a viaduct on the freeway they were heading for. "This is worse than bad. That's the Sepulveda tunnel, isn't it? It's completely on fire." he said, gripping the steering wheel tightly as he guided the engine through the wider, more open lanes of stalled traffic leading to the highway.

"That must be where the truck is." Brice guessed.

"Or was." Bellingham frowned. "I can't see anybody surviving that. The bridge's outer concrete is glowing already." he said.

Bob lifted his HT. "Squad 51 to Engine 51. Shall we use the dirt median at Call Box 285's Y-fork for staging?"

Engine 51's radio crackled into life.  
##That's affirmative. That location's uphill and upwind and near several off-ramps. Those will be well suited for resources incoming and outgoing. Get as much support as you need for traffic control. I'm depending on your sole judgement call for this. I'll be too busy setting up operations and finding an available Safety Officer to take up a post before the rest of us engage ourselves fully into an active attack.## replied Hank. ##Whatever you do, wear your scba at all times. We have no idea what that truck's payload is, especially now that it's burning.##

"Understood, Cap. Scene sweep in full gear with air." said Bellingham.

-  
The scanner in Dixie's office was still gushing active information when Dixie peeked her head into the ambulance garage. "Boys?" she addressed Ponch and Jon. "You're needed. There's been a major accident and brush fire on the PCH northbound. Nobody knows the number of vehicles or injured yet. I just overheard on the scanner that Squad 51 is asking for help with their immediate scene traffic." she said. "CHiP headquarters says they're shorthanded."

"I'll call the Sarge." said Poncherello, hitting the garage open release. "Sorry, Roy, Johnny. But we're skipping out on ya. Duty calls."

"No problem." said Roy instantly. "You're shadowing so that means volunteering, and not officially working as hired help. You're always free to go when the primary job calls."

Jon looked equally focused. "Thanks, Miss McCall, for the message and the news. Listen for us on your scanner for more details. I know all of your radios can't connect with police frequencies."

McCall nodded.  
"No doubt some of us will be meeting you out there ourselves. One of the station captains has just confirmed a need for triage." Dixie shared.

Jon and Ponch started running out of the ambulance bay.

"Where?" DeSoto asked Dixie once the CHiP officers had left on their police bikes with lights and sirens blaring.

"Call Box 285." Dixie reported quickly. "So far, the wind is cooperating. There are no fumes being reported there."

Roy and Johnny started snapping orders.

Gage whistled, getting everyone's attention. "All of you. Leave the two rigs we've messed up by playing. Grab two new ones along with others, two to a rig, and familiarize yourself with all of the dash controls. We don't know how many transports we're gonna get yet, but we're gonna be standing by in instant idle, regardless, until we do know." he told all of the EMTs.

DeSoto added more. "Johnny and I will be taking our own ambulance to oversee yours, if they're needed, at the scene. We'll call you in as soon as we know patient numbers. Sorry, you're being thrown off the deep end so suddenly like this. But looks like real life can't wait any longer for all of our help. Now gather round the map. I'll show you where staging is."

They rushed to obey.

Ponch and Jon hurried down the freeway, dodging grid locked autos sprawled across all six lanes and standing drivers who were outside of their cars discussing what they thought the emergency was with other curious onlookers. They wove past the people crunches and soon, they hit an open area of roadway where they could speed up.

"Seven Mary, Three and Four. Our E.T.A to Squad 51's 10-27 is approximately two minutes." Ponch told their dispatcher using his radio. "Respond three wreckers. I'm seeing at least two trucks and a car from my point of view northbound at mile marker 117. All rollovers." he reported. "There may be more."

##10-4, Mary Four.## replied a female voice at CHiP Central.

Jon Baker eased up on his throttle when they reached three patrol cars funneling traffic off the freeway and away from the fire. One was Seven Mary David, Baricza's unit. "Bear, what do you got?" he shouted over the din of honking impatient cars and his own radio's traffic.

"We think there's a driver in that blue car and the somebody in the silver one nearest the fire. Don't know about that tipped over truck out in the open!" he hollered back. "The truck in the tunnel's toast. Smells like that originating fire's already caught and killed its driver."

"Okay, looks like you've got this under control. We're going on to assess other damage and injuries. Mayfair's been notified!" Ponch shared.

They found several more CHiP officers waving on traffic into the evacuation lanes. Finally, they located Sergeant Joe Getraer standing on the side of the road near where some engine companies and other non-activated ambulances were awaiting possible standby or relief assignments from Captain Stanley.

"Joe! What do you want us to do? Traffic's being handled!" Ponch shouted from where they idled, still on their motors, in the road.

"Look for survivors Fire hasn't spotted yet. We need more eyes on this whole thing. But be careful." Sgt. Getraer ordered. "Baricza's been designated as our Safety. Listen to him at all times!" Joe shouted, knowing Ponch's propensity for taking risks.  
"I don't wanna hear about anyone getting singed today doing something stupid."

Ponch grinned ruefully through his sunglasses, shaded under his gold helmet.  
"Would I do that, Sarge?"

"Yes." replied Jon, next to him. "Come on, let's go. I think we can go up that slope over there with our bikes without problems. It's the best vantage point. Bear's probably gonna join us up there in a few minutes once his backup checks in."

Ponch nodded and flanked his partner in tight formation as he let Baker lead him to the spot he had chosen to be a look out.

Sarge watched them go only briefly before he was called away to report to an incident command table designated for the Highway Patrol by their own Division Chief.

-  
Captain Stanley saw people hurt and upset, but none with any injuries that had to be treated right away. ::They're all green tags.:: he decided.  
He lifted his handy talkie. "IC 51 to Squad 51. Confirm that fatality in the tunnel. Find out if that individual was alone or with others. They may have gotten out."

##10-4, IC 51.## replied Bellingham on hand held. He looked at Brice.  
"Okay, looks like that brush fire's crossed the road. Are you ready? I'm going to speed up and then coast the rest of the way over to the viaduct in neutral, just in case the lack of air under all that smoke snuffs out the engine." he hissed through his air flowing face plate.

"It won't kill." Craig smiled. "Charlie tuned it up only last week. I checked. She's running real rich even in clear air." he said, readjusting his helmet over the straps of his air mask. "Rev it up once."

Bob did so. Squad 51 responded nimbly. "Like a top. Real smooth. Okay,  
we've got our way out." he said grimly. "Let's go."

"I'm seeing a blue car upside down, just outside the smoke field." Brice reported.

"Anybody over there yet?" Bob asked.

"Yeah. A CHiPs officer and his partner. They just got off their bikes."

"Good enough for now." Bellingham decided. "They'll keep the driver alive until we get to them with all the gear."

A minute more and Squad 51 was soon alone under an angry spark filled darkness next to the burning hill. They could just make out a fire engine at the cross ramp,  
intersecting the freeway, watching out for their safety. Brice and Bellingham parked, engine running, upwind of the tunnel and got out, leaving their squad doors wide open.

The cautiously looked for a blown out hazardous chemical placard on the pieces of the burning semi they could see inside the tunnel. The explosion had destroyed all markings on the truck's remains.

"Had to be hard." Bob groused, watching where he was putting his feet while he carried a fire extinguisher in one glove. "The card's gone."

"Okay. Assuming everything damaged is caustic." Brice told Bellingham after tapping him on the shoulder. "Including the ground. Walk on no debris at all."

"I'm with you there." Bob agreed whole heartedly. "We have six minutes of bottle air left. Mark." he said, squinting at his watch through the glowing gloom surrounding them. "Let's make this fast."

Quickly, Brice and Bellingham made their way under the bridge pylons and peered down the tunnel. "The overpass's pillars are sound. That road's not gonna collapse with this one." Bob said of the tunnel fire."They aren't even nicked or scorched."

"So it's just down here." Brice surmised.

"Yeah. Sepulveda east/west only."

Craig reported in on his radio. "Squad 51 to IC 51."

## This is IC-51..##

"All basic infrastructures around the tunnel are sound. But there are no survivors.  
We note just the blue car on the south fringe. CHiP is present."

##Okay, get yourselves out of there. Report upwind. There are some victims over there to treat.##

"10-4, IC." said Brice.

They lingered in the opening of the burning tunnel hopefully, for a minute more, searching for signs of movement that wasn't just draft and breeze driven flames. But then they turned sadly away and hurried to the squad to make their escape back into the daylight.

They were nearly at the edge of clear air when they spotted a highway patrolman tugging violently at the door of an orange car that was nearly the same color as the burning embers blowing around it, barely seen under the smoke. "There's a kid in here!" shouted Ponch as he coughed and struggled with the driver's door.

"Get out of the smoke! We'll handle it!" Bellingham ordered, taking Ponch's place. He saw an unconscious teen lying on the seat.

Frank backed away, shielding his face from the heat of the smoke, and retreated back to safety under the sunlight and fresh air.

The car did not appear to be damaged so Bob took a risk as both he and Brice grabbed the boy for a short two man carry out of danger. "Must be out from just the smoke. He doesn't have any injuries."

Vince met them with a stokes in the green zone and the teenager was promptly swarmed by other firefighters. They began a fast vitals check. "He's alive." one of them said through his air mask. "Breathing's okay." Then they picked him up and bore him off to triage at a good clip.  
Bellingham was horrified. "We almost missed him!" Bob said as he watched them go.

Craig was calm and supportive. "That's why Hank or another commander assigned a second layer of eyes utililzing CHiPs officers. He knew we couldn't do it all by ourselves down here." Brice reasoned. "There's too much going on, even at the edges."

"Thanks, Brice. I needed to hear that. Let's get back out to that other side-tipped semi. I'll just bet that's where Cap says more victims are located. I think I saw that CHiPPer run over that way. The fire must be spreading." Bob said with alarm. They ran back to Squad 51, their nearly spent air bottles rattling, to go join them.

-  
Battalion 14 watched as his firefighters struggled to contain the tunnel fire. He had relieved Hank Stanley of command to free him up to handle his own men, who were doing the same thing. He lifted his radio to his mouth from his vantage point next to the fire department Safety Officer. "Battalion 14, Bulldozers Nine and Twelve.  
Start your brush clearing to the west. Bury the flames with your dirt. That should contain the wildfire long enough for the aircranes to get here with their water drops."

##10-4, Battalion 14.## said both air bottled Caterpillar operators. They got to work.

Minute after long minute, the fight over the fuel fire in the tunnel began to yield some progress. Foam and water swirled over hot, warped metal, followed by fanning spray after fanning spray of those firefighters working to keep the danger away from the working rescue crews surrounding the second semi they had found.

Captain Stanley ran over to where he had positioned Marco Lopez, to cool the belly of the tipped truck lying in the middle of the road only a short distance away from the bones of the first one, melted inside the tunnel. "Marco, how's it going?" he hollered over the roaring din of wind and foam compressors.

"I'm smelling gas, Cap. Started a few seconds ago!"

"See if you can wash it out!" Hank ordered. "Then get yourself way the h*ll away from here!"

"Right." Lopez grunted, fighting with the bucking hose as inconsistent pressure delivered water to his fanning nozzle. "I'll leave when the other crews do."

"Make it a vow, Marco." Cap growled.

Lopez simply nodded tightly and crossed himself in the Holy Trinity.

Then Cap shouted a priority hail. "Brice! Bellingham! Get the driver out. Rapid extrication! This truck's ready to blow!"

-  
On the way to the accident site, Johnny received a phone call through his Mayfair's biophone. He didn't disturb Roy, who was concentrating on driving the rig through the maze of backed up traffic that the highway patrol was still clearing out. "Mayfair One."  
Gage replied into its receiver at the sound of a triple tone.

##Mayfair One, this is Doctor Brackett. We've just got word from your Triage Officer. There are six victims so far. Think you can handle their transportation in okay? Helicopters won't be able to land as long as that brush fire's still burning.##

"Yeah, doc. Roy and I have mobilized the whole ambulance fleet. We can use them all if necessary."

##And how many is that?##

"Twelve rigs, doc. They had twenty four EMTs starting up this morning."

##Good deal. Let's hope we won't have to use them all. Rampart out.##

-  
Brice and Bellingham quickly pry barred the driver's door open on the truck.

"Hey!" shouted Brice loudly. "Can you hear me in there? Fire Department!"

Behind a web of shattered glass, an older man wearing a gray tunic replied.  
"...yes... please hurry... I'm... in a lot of...pain."

"Where do you hurt?" asked Bob.

"I...think I ...jammed my shoulder."

##Make it fast, pal.## came Cap's urgent transmission in their ear. ##It's getting away from them.## came a message from their pocketted HTs.

"No where else?" Brice hollered down.

"No.."

Bob reached down a gloved arm. "Grab my hand, mister. We've got to get you out of here a.s.a.p. Your truck's starting to burn!"

"I'm sorry. I-" The man sagged and suddenly went limp and sweaty.

"I'll go wake him up." said Brice, peeling out of his turnout. He jumped down into the cab next to the driver and knelt quickly. He freed his hand from a glove and pressed a few knuckles hard into the soft bone of the man's sternum. "Hey! You gotta keep conscious. We're gonna lift you out of here."

"OOohhh." the wounded driver moaned.

Bob looked up. "Hey, Cap! Marco! On the double. It's gonna take all four of us to get him out of here. He's going into shock!"

"Man!" Cap grumbled, quickly shimmeying up the side of the toppled semi. He gave Lopez a hand up and soon, Brice and Bob were pushing the groggy driver up into their arms. Marco and Hank muscled their big patient down to the ground where Bob hastily caught his head as he flopped back onto the ground after being hung by the arms from above.

"The gas is getting stronger. Let's get out of here!" coughed Cap.

Marco and Hank both jumped off of the truck cab and rolled protectively to absorb the impact. Then together, they helped Bob and Craig arm and shoulder dangle carry the driver as fast as they could go, out of the area.

They had travelled about twenty feet away from the truck when its fuel line at the other end, decided to blow.

They were uninjured after getting showered with fresh sparks and fine debris.

"Let's thank our lucky stars." grunted Cap to the others.

Hastily, they made it out to the first of the Mayfair ambulances just beginning to ring the outside of the green zone.

-  
Ten minutes later, Ponch left his place on the hill next to Baricza and walked down to the blue car that had the last remaining trapped victim on scene.  
He leaned down and addressed Bob Bellingham where he was treating the injured driver until heavier equipment arrived to cut him out. "Need any more help here?" he asked.

The sooty paramedic raised his head. "Yeah, could you.. fan all the brush and truck smoke away a little? It's making my eyes start to water." he complained, teasing.

"You could put your mask back on."

"Can't." said Bob. "I gave it to him." he said, pointing down at the man who was receiving an I.V. as fast as it could be pushed into his veins.

"I'll go grab another air bottle." Ponch promised. "Then I'll..yell at Mother Nature a bit until she begins to cooperate."

"Thanks." Bob coughed. "And thanks for finding that kid in there. We really appreciate it."

"Any time. Us service people? We should stick together, like bread and butter,  
you know? That way we can clean up." Poncherello grinned.

-  
Cap and Vince were prioritizing the green tagged triage victims for Craig Brice. One of them, was a witness to the accident.

"Yeah, I'm telling you guys." he said. "It was a pair of kids who caused the whole thing. They were throwing rocks down onto the freeway. A few of the bigger ones bounced and hit that guy's windshield." he pointed, meaning the truck driver that Roy and Johnny were currently loading up onto a Mayfair. "He panicked and fishtailed his rig right into the one that died in the tunnel."  
The witness shook his head ruefully. "Man, I'd hate to be him."  
he paled. "Knowing that I killed someone."

"He didn't do it intentionally, mister. Don't judge this outcome too soon." Vince shared. "Now I think you ought sit down before you fall down. You're as white as a sheet." said the burly cop.

Brice grabbed the man's arm. "Are you feeling dizzy at all?"

"Yeah, a little, that smoke's awful." said the witness. "Someone told me that stench is actually dead guy."

-  
Johnny Gage was answering EMT Stanley Dubois's question.  
"And if it was, you'd have to cope with it, right? Death happens."  
Johnny answered truthfully.

"I'd probably throw up." Stan admitted.

"Maybe the first or second time. But then sheer embarassment kicks in and you learn to save face before any conscious patient by holding it in." Roy shared. "Happened to me."

"And me." Gage said, too.

"And me." said CHiP Jon Baker. "Messed up my boots."

Stan finally smiled a little. "I hope I'm cracked up to do this kind of stuff. Been dreaming about it all my life." he admitted.

"Only experience will tell, Mr. Dubois." said Gage, straightening up from tucking in a blanket around their latest unconscious patient.  
"Whoa.." he said, shaking his head.

"Mr. Gage. Sit down." Stan ordered. "Something's not right with you. You're blue."

"Huh?" Johnny mumbled.

CHiP Jon Baker pushed him down onto the bumper of a fire truck. "Mr. Gage, you're blacking out."

"Hey, we need some oxygen over here on the double!" EMT Dubois hollered. A passing firefighter hastened to comply. Craig Brice came running. Soon, Johnny was breathing pure O2 by Stan's hand and his awareness slowly came back.

"So what's the matter with you?" Roy said, smiling as he knelt before Johnny. Brice was dishing out ice chips to cool Gage down a little by rubbing them over his forehead and the back of his neck.

Gage shook his head again. "I guess I must have gotten a lungful or two of that burning fuel." He finally reached up to hold the oxygen mask Stan was offering over his own face.

DeSoto lifted his head. "Good call, Stan. Altered level. He'll be fine.  
Nice save with the O2."

"You mean, he's gonna be all right?" Stan quavered. "He scared the snot out of me."

"There'll be others." Johnny quipped, sucking in another huge mouthful of clean cure.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Get used to it." said Roy and Johnny and Jon at the same time.

Meanwhile, Ponch was sitting on a guard rail, catching his breath after having lugged the heavy air bottle set over to Bellingham's car vigil.  
"Man." he said, looking at Cap. "And this a normal run for a typical day?"

"Only one of many." Hank shared honestly and forthright. "Our average is twelve a shift."

Poncherello's mouth flopped clean open.

Photo: Cap radioing from the engine cab on the move.

Photo: A truck burning inside of a freeway tunnel.

Photo: CHiP officer Poncherello attempting a burning car rescue.

Photo: Paramedics Brice and Bellingham reaching down at you.

Photo: Roy and Johnny wearing ambulance whites, bending down.

Photo: Roy, grinning in an EMT instructor's white uniform.

Photo: Jon Baker of the California Highway Patrol, smiling. **************************************************  
From:patti k ()  
Sent:Sat 9/11/10 2:43 AM Subject: Crisis Intervention...

"So, what's the verdict?" Roy asked Johnny as he reappeared out of a treatment room at Rampart. "Respiratory? Or Psychogenic?"

Gage made a face as he continued buttoning up his white Mayfair uniform over his T-shirt. "Very funny. My blood's showing ischemia breakdown by-products so it was definitely a little atmospheric hypoxia going on, a genuine lack of oxygen."

"Lucky wind gust, huh?" Roy wondered.

"You mean unlucky." Johnny grinned, lopsidedly. "That unconscious woman we brought in had signs of the same thing. That's probably why we had to bag her a bit in transit despite the lack of any other problems."

"So what did lead to poor oxygen gas levels away from the fire?" DeSoto asked. "Did you ever find out?"

"Cap called the chief for me once he heard I was going in for odd ball breathing symptoms. A powerful dessicant loaded on the truck burning up in the tunnel was the cause of it all. Battalion thinks when the wind died, pockets of airlessness began drifting around triage.  
I was why we were moved back half a mile and the neighborhood evacuated. The chemical reaction was odorless, colorless, ground hugging and completely inflammable. What we saw burning in there was all fuel from the gas tank."

"Was that truck on an illegal ship route?" he asked, wheeling the oxygen Gage had used on the way in behind him as they walked in the hallway.

Johnny shook his head. "Oh, he was legal all right, completely Caltrans compliant. The shipper just didn't count on a crash happening in a tunnel that could get hot enough to break those specially sealed, vacuum locked cylinders." Johnny sighed. "The stuff's not poisonous. Just very reactant once leaked out uncontrolled into the open."

"You'd think that chemical gas would have snuffed the flames out if it was eating up all the oxygen."

Johnny shrugged. "Not in the chimney effect going on through that tunnel. The wind probably was too strong through there while the fire was burning to allow for it to work like that."

"I'm just glad you and that woman are all right. Any passing symptoms?"  
Roy asked.

"I've got a raging thirst. Does that count?" he poked Roy in the chest,  
blaming him.

"You didn't need an I.V." DeSoto chuckled. "Your crisis period was too short."

"That's okay. Just let me suck down the entire Rio Grande here. My tongue's still parched." Gage said, leaning down to do his best to drain the water fountain's pipes dry.

"Did Morton grant you sick leave?"

"Nope. EMT Dubois fixed my problem immediately when he gave me that pure oxygen. I'm good to go."

"Lucky again." Roy smirked.

"How so? Past the obvious." he wondered, waggling his hand.

"You got out of the inventory scrod seat at Mayfair."

"Say, yeah.." Johnny grinned. "I'm bucking a million!" he said happily.

"Who's rich?" asked Sharon Walters as she walked near them.

Roy and Johnny did a double take at her nursing whites and new head nurse pins. "Wow, Sharon. Congrats!" they both said.

"Thanks. I've only got a minute to visit. I'm expected back at the desk."

Gage's face fell into seriousness. "Nobody's rich. Not firefighters, nor paramedics, or seasonal EMT instructors." he replied, jerking a finger at both himself and Roy for each point made.

"Become a nurse." Sharon shrugged reasonably.

"What? Me? Wear a striped paper hat?" Johnny kidded with her.

"No, silly." she giggled. "Guys wear lapel pins and a white blazer jacket."

"Give me a white lab coat and it's a deal." he grinned.

"That'll cost you." she said, pretending to consider it.

"How much?" Gage asked, playing along.

"Twelve years more of school and about thirty thousand dollars."

"Oooo." Roy grimaced.

Gage tsked in his throat. "Too steep for my blood."

"Now that it's oxygenated again." she said, tapping his chart that she was carrying in her grip.

"Am I free to go? I was getting bored in there."

"Did Dr. Morton look bored after he took a look at you?" Sharon countered.

"Uh, yeah. Now that I think about it." Gage confessed.

"Then you're fine. Here's your release papers. Sign there." she said,  
handing him sheets and her pen and pointing at a line at the bottom. "All care Mayfair renders is free to all employees." Walters said.

"Really? I didn't know that." Gage celebrated.

Sharon just harrumphed in her throat. "Get out of my E.R. We're busy." She snatched back the papers, leaving him his yellow carbon copy.

"Yes, ma'am." said Johnny, saluting her gladly.

Sharon winked, wrinkled her nose in amusement, and abandoned them promptly.

DeSoto and Gage turned and started walking into the new skyway leading back to Mayfair's garage wing.

"You finally got it right that time." DeSoto mentioned, pantomiming Johnny's crisp salute.

"Don't be a critic. Come on, let's go debrief all the EMTs who were with us at the freeway fire."

Roy the paramedic followed up, peering at Gage's post care notes that Morton had scribbled there. "I promise I'll feed you food and get you plenty of caffeine."

Johnny looked at him with distaste.  
"I'll take the chow, but you can keep that coffee to yourself. After being on all that pure 02 for half an hour, I'm still wired." Gage complained.

"I can tell. You're still floating." DeSoto teased. "Got a match?"

-  
On their return, Dixie was nowhere in sight. But the sound of her voice was very evident from where she was buried in phone calls. She perched one receiver on her shoulder long enough to wave at them jauntily from her desk before losing herself once more in business chatter.

A platter of fresh deli submarine sandwiches lay piled in the middle of a rec table, but most of the EMTs weren't eating. They were not watching the news,  
pretending to be involved in a baseball game on T.V. instead, that nobody was actually registering. Roy recognized the thousand yard stares instantly. He took up the remote and dialed the loud volume down to a muted quiet.

Everybody looked at him dully.

"It's about the guy in the tunnel? You're thinking about him?" he asked them,  
guessing.

"Constantly." said the biker type, Mel. "How do you guys handle that kind of horror every day?" he asked.

"Are you all wondering the same thing?" DeSoto asked the group.

They all nodded.

"Okay." said Roy, tossing the remote onto one of the couches. "That's a normal reaction. I-"

"Where's Rosalie?" asked Stan, interrupting.

Mel shifted uncomfortably in his easy chair. "Taking a shower. She's trying to get that smell out of her hair." Mel replied.

The silence in the room dropped into heaviness and the mood remained grim.

Roy got up in front of them, picked up the platter of untouched food and began offering it to each of his charges, one by one. "Take one up, right now, and eat."  
he said. "That's an order. No doubt all your metabolisms are shot from adrenaline overload and made worse from a little hypoglycemia." he shared. "It's noon, folks,  
seven hours since we had that pizza. Didn't anybody notice the time?" Desoto chose the biggest sub and started chowing down.

Dutifully, they each chose a sandwich to hold and followed his example. A few of them even started chewing hungrily.

"Thought so. Grab two if you need it. Don't choke." he tried to joke.

No one laughed. A door banged open and EMT Arnold came into the room in a fresh uniform, towelling off her hair.

Roy saw her. "Miss Arnold." he prompted.

"Hmm?" she replied, accepting a sandwich from the plate he held out.

"Have a seat. We're going to be debriefing today's call next."

She cocked her head, one cheek big with food. "Oh, I don't need one. It's not the first time I've smelled bacon."

Stan dropped his sandwich, turning promptly green and covered his mouth,  
fighting nausea.

"Rosalie!" Dixie's voice admonished as she came out of the office to confront her directly. "You will hold at least some modicum of professionalism when you are in that uniform. What you say when you are off duty and no longer around your coworkers, is your own business." she said firmly, almost cold.

Rosalie hung her head, completely lacking any belligerence. "I'm sorry all. I have a tendency to use disassociation to cope with any nasty. Forgive me my mouth." Then she looked up at Dixie. "Ma'am, my comment was in the realm of a write up, for a disciplinary action if you'd like."

McCall softened and smiled kindly."Not today. Make amends with everyone here, and I promise I'll forget about it." Then she left.

Roy kept on eating methodically throughout the entire exchange until it was over. Then he spoke. "Being crude can be a coping mechanism. But it's not very effective. I've tried it. I mean, how can it be? Death is ugly. It's never pretty when it finally comes. But remember this, if you decide to remember just one thing that I share with you about this job. Anyone who's dead is no longer feeling pain. That task, is then left to the rest of us to face either alone, as a pair, or as a group. We see it in the form of violent death, or in panicking, grief stricken family members, or sometimes in the worse way possible. When someone you know gets killed on the job right in front of you. It's gonna happen. At least once in your lifetime EMS career."  
DeSoto finally set aside his empty plate and leaned on the table in front of couches."So what do you do? Hold it all in so it can wear at you day by day?  
Do you escape in glasses of beer, liquor or wine? Or do you seek an instant chemical fix in a prescription to.. calm down your nerves?" DeSoto took in a deep breath and let it out. "There's no easy answer. My only advice to you is to find a cope system that works for you naturally, not artificially,  
with addiction." He pulled out a single business card and tacked it up right in the middle of the brand new cork bulletin board next to the county map.  
"This is the critical incident stress management crisis hotline phone number.  
You can call anytime, day or night, to talk to someone."

"A shrink?" Mel asked with distaste.

"Sometimes." DeSoto admitted. "But usually it's someone else in the field who's been there, available on the line, just so you can talk it out. And if necessary, you'll be told how to fill out the forms in order to take a break from the job for a while until you feel ready to cope with it again." he shared.  
"There's no shame in ending pain, right? Well, how about if it's your own pain? Don't be afraid to open up and get it all out. Cause if you don't, it's gonna kill ya, one way or another."

Johnny had been listening quietly from the doorway. "I've manned those crisis phones myself, offering an ear,...sometimes, a shoulder.. When you think about it, emergency medicine on the street is a front line of battle,  
exactly like that of any war. The only difference is, nobody's trying to kill you. You're out there trying to prevent chance and circumstances from trying to kill somebody else. But all the heavy stresses you feel are identical to that of any soldier in the line of fire. Never forget that."  
He met every EMT's eyes evenly. "Let's talk about today, shall we? Together. We have no one else who will understand what we experience right in front of us, except ourselves. Now, who's first?"

Nobody moved an inch, even the chewing stopped. But then someone spoke up. "Me." said Mel. "Because I'm hurting right now. Real bad."

"Okay." said Gage. "Now everybody else, please, just listen. Then you can share whatever pain you've got afterwards. Because I've found out that once it's out in the open, you can finally begin to heal. We'll all have a turn at this debrief. And again at the next one, for any call you feel we need to discuss, is that a deal?"

All heads nodded slowly.

"Everybody talks. Even Roy and I." said Johnny. "Because today, something happened that was real bad. Even to us long time career firefighter paramedics."

"What?" asked Rosalie, stunned.

"We almost missed finding somebody this afternoon in that fire. And I don't know what we would have done with ourselves if he had died as a result." Gage admitted, remembering what Bellingham had shared with him to use as a red flag story for their debrief.

"That's bad." Arnold whispered. "C-Can we discuss it?" she offered timidly.

"Yes." replied Roy.

Photo: Roy and Johnny in the hallway with Dr. Morton.

Photo: Two Mayfair EMTs with a stretcher as viewed from an extended ladder truck aerial bucket.

Photo: A burning tunnel fire.

Photo: Roy, wearing EMT instructor white, smiling.

Photo: EMT Rosalie Arnold, crying.

Photo: Dixie McCall looking stern in a business suit.

Photo: A tacked EMT training notice on a bulletin board. ************************************************** From:patti k () Subject: The Food Fix..  
Sent:Thu 9/16/10 5:14 AM

In Mayfair's manager's office, the evening sun was just setting through the windows.

Dixie was humming happily, while she whittled away at her pile of paperwork. The phones were blissfully quiet now. ::Guess it must be people's dinner time.:: she chuckled mentally. Snatching a Hersey's bar out of one drawer and the next packet foldout bill from her in-basket, Dixie started reading. She pursed her lips in familiarity. It was for a patient she knew from the day before, Ryan Diaz, the six year old who had experimentally eaten iron tablets who was brought back from the brink by Roy and Johnny's fast actions. She whistled softly when the dollar figure registered. "That can't be right." she scowled. Then her eyes found the Battalion exempt code marked on the upper right hand corner. "Ah, that's better. Tax payer emergency chopper evacuation clause. No charge." She grabbed a rubber stamper and gladly plastered VOID all over the invoice addressed to that house.

She was halfway through her candy when the phone rang once. She picked it up.  
"Oh, hi, Kel. Yeah, they're back. Johnny's fine. He's eating like a mad thing so he can't be too laid up after his suffocation spell. You need me to take a message? I can tell. You only call me now when it's about business for Roy or Johnny. Do you want me to go get one of them? No? All right. I'm set. Go." she said, poising a pencil in between her delicate fingernails over a notepad. But Dixie never started writing a single letter and the pencil dropped loosely from her grip and rolled unnoticed from her folder onto the floor. "Uh, yeah, I'll tell them. Sure. No problem. Get unbusy, huh?" she said. "I love you, too, Kel. See you tonight. Bye." Their phone disconnected.

Dixie's chocolate went from sweet to vile in her mouth and her happy day fled in an instant. McCall picked up the ambulance bill she had been working on and studied it without seeing the voided figures. Only one face stayed in her mind. That of a little red headed boy on a respirator who hadn't survived his ordeal.

She heard the laughter coming from the crew rec room outside and wasn't comforted by the fact that she would shatter their precious bonding time in a minute or so. ::Roy's the best one.:: she decided with a thought. ::I can share what I know without saying a word. He's older.:: McCall decided. So she got up from her chair and stood in the window overlooking the ambulance bay until DeSoto spotted her softly spread hand on the glass. He paused only briefly in his easy banter with an EMT when it registered whose bill she was crumpling in her other hand. The red void stamp marks were unmistakable. He nodded once in acknowledgement before bolstering a false smile back onto his face for everyone else's benefit.

"I hate this aspect of the job." Dixie mumbled as she returned to her desk. "Why can't we spread the good news about our patients instead of just all the losses to the supervisors?"

::The HIPAA Privacy Rule.:: her brain taunted. ::Only the direct caregivers need to know.::  
Out loud, Dixie mumbled. "We debrief the bad calls, yeah. But I'm gonna implement pep rallies for all the successes, starting right now." she snatched up a chalk stick from her catch-all on the desk and hurried out into the rec room.

"Hey, all. We're keeping an unofficial score board." she announced. She drew a tally box in one corner and an exaggerated thumbs up symbol next to it. "Check here for our halos denied count. I'll be adding to it every day." she smiled, quickly marking off ticks. "That's four of five transports. Also, I'm counting Paramedic Gage's trip in today." she teased. "All thanks to his bad luck gene." Dixie winked. "Nice work, Dubois. Keep it up and you'll out-EMT our two paramedics before you know it."

The room of Mayfair employees crowed and applauded. Including Johnny, who bowed in mock, under a seige of light hearted cat calls for his benefit. Stan grinned from ear to ear,  
enjoying the moment showered onto him by all of his coworkers.

Johnny quietly made his way over to his partner's side. "Only four? Who'd we lose?" he asked, his voice seriously pitched for Roy's ears only.

"Ryan." DeSoto said, studying his feet and picking an invisible piece of lint off of his slacks.

"D*mn." Gage said, lowering his head. "I thought we were right on time."

"You know iron poisoning's funny like that. Never count all your eggs until they're in the basket."

"Iron tablets are nasty eggs." Johnny spat. "They don't play fair." he said, crossing his arms in an uncomfortable fidget. He finally put them back by his side when he couldn't figure out what to do with them.

"Children will always be curious. Even after we're old and gray." Roy smiled.

"I don't like breaking our lucky streak with peds calls. That's the first one we've lost in six years." Johnny sighed softly.

"We'll save the next one." Roy vowed, his eyes distant and shining fiercely.

"You got that right. H*ll with it. Come on, let's eat. I'm getting hungry again." Gage groused, eager to flee his emotional fallout.

Roy joined him happily, snapping into motion. "Dibs on the last turkey sub." DeSoto said, rushing ahead of his quick partner. "You've had at least three all to yourself."

"I'm wounded. I need that." Johnny said, licking his lips watching while Roy chowed down his favorite food target type for the day.

"I cured you, boss." Stan chided, leaning into them over the food platter. "That is a bogus beg, and you know it."

"Says who?" Gage countered at Stan. "My muscles are still sore."

"Hypoxia'll do that. Doesn't mean you're still deficient." said Arnold, amused at the food battle going on. "I read that it's all just phantom pain."

Dixie chortled. "With Johnny, everything's a pain some days."

"Hey.." Gage protested.

"What's the matter, Johnny?" Roy asked, chipmunk cheeked. "I thought you liked getting beautiful women to pay attention to you."

Rosalie and Dixie both blew kisses at DeSoto in gratitude.

Johnny just sputtered. "I do. I do. I- "

"You're just very food possessive, right?" McCall teased.

"Like every other hot blooded firefighter I know. We need a ton of calories."  
Johnny countered.

"You're not fire fighting today." Rosalie jabbed. "Not for the rest of the summer.  
So what's your excuse now, boss?"

"I- I- oh, never mind." Gage grumbled. "Roy, I hope you choke on that sandwich."

"Won't happen. I'm surrounded by EMTs." DeSoto said, flopping down on the couch to turn on the TV set. "Hey everyone, Adam 12's on."

Whistles and happy exclamations filled the air as the others, including Dixie,  
sat down in clumps on the couches to pay proper homage.

They were still rapt when Jon Baker and Francis Poncherello entered the room.

"Whatcha watchin?" asked Ponch.

Somebody told him.

Frank made a face. "Ah, that's just another cop show." he said, scoffing. "Boring.."

Mel chuckled. "That's only because you are a cop. To us, it's totally hip."

Baker smiled, making a mild face of disgust. "Enjoy. Any food left?"

Seven hands pointed to the sandwich table without any eyes leaving the TV screen.

"Thanks." said Jon. He turned to Ponch. "Dibs on the last beef one."

And the race began.

Photo: Dixie and Gage noshing from a food plate.

Photo: Ponch and Jon in street clothes, laughing.

Photo: EMT Stan Dubois in close up.

Photo: EMTs Rosalie and Mel medium shot.

Photo: A plate full of sub sandwiches.

Photo: A TV screen showing the Adam-12 TV series logo in black and white.

************************************************** From:patti k () Sent:Sat 9/18/10 12:26 AM Subject: Beddy Bye

"*Sigh* I'm bushed." said Chet Kelly as he put his feet up onto the kitchen table and leaned back into his chair in utter weariness with closed eyes.

Without looking up from a crossword puzzle he was studying without marking, Brice picked up Chet's crossed ankles by their pants cuffs and slid a folded want ad underneath Chet's shoes to keep things clean. "Do you need a med evaluation, Kelly? I'm offering." Craig asked.

"Not unless it includes Gage's hanging stokes rocking cradle stuffed with down pillows and five woolen blankets, it doesn't." Chet mumbled, half dozing.

Craig looked up, frowning in incomprehension.

For once, Cap didn't enforce the no feet on the furniture rule. "Brice."  
he said. "Long story. He's fine."

Craig nodded and returned his pen to his mouth. But that didn't keep him from stealing a sidelong glance at Chet to take a respiratory rate anyway. "If you say so, Captain Stanley. It's not beyond the realm of improbability that one of us wasn't caught in the same gas pocket that pooled around Gage, sir."

Chet chuckled. "My name is Chester B. Kelly. It's 12:25ish on a Friday night and I'm in Station 51, fourth chair from the door leading out to the bay, seven feet nine inches from the window next to me, exactly." he pointed, without opening his eyes from where he was slumped.

Bob Bellingham narrowed his own eyes in doubt where he was scratching Henry's broad upturned belly enthusiastically on the couch. He got up, grabbed the yardstick from the chalkboard, and started measuring the air distance from that wall, end over end with it, until he reached the crease on Kelly's sleeve. He finally cocked his head in admiration as he peered at the final tick mark. "He's dead on, Craig." he said, pursing his lips.

Kelly lifted a surrendering palm to the ceiling."How's that for being oriented to time and place." he grunted tiredly without moving a millimeter.

Brice's mouth flopped open. "How did you do that?"

Chet scoffed. "I am a seven year survivor of a dozen Captain Hookraider fill in shifts from H*ll, that's how. I can probably tell you the distance between bed spread hems across the width of the floor in the bunkroom to the nearest quarter inch, too, Brice. Be glad you aren't a Station 51 assigned regular or else you, too, can learn this force honed skill. It's not a joy. Now shut up and let me get some sleep." he grumbled.

Cap just raised his eyebrows in a mental shrug where he was listening in.

Craig finally turned back to his newspaper. "Okay. That sounds like a typical Chet Kelly retort. I stand corrected."

"Yey, team.." whisper roared Bob in subtle mock as he cheered with raised hands and elbows, trying to get a rise out of his partner using a goofy face.

Brice only lifted his still pristine crossword puzzle up even higher until he couldn't see Bob anymore.

Bellingham nudged Chet's feet with his own shoe, sharing the same dirt catching paper mat."Ya could have milked out an inhalation exposure check to the max, Chet. Why did ya pass?"

Kelly finally opened his red eyes over the arms he had crossed on top of his chest. "Wouldn't have been any fun. Gage isn't here for me to pester to death."

Hank snorted. "No wonder you're sleeping." he sniffed. "It's a nice change of pace though." he said.

"Hey.." Kelly protested.

"Truth is truth." Stanley shrugged mildly. "I just happen to like a little peace and harmony around my station. Has that thought ever occurred to you?"

"Sign up for the County Examiner's spot if you want a lot of dead quiet."  
Chet groused. "Us guys are still breathing."

"Brice." Hank ordered.

"Yes, sir?"

"Let's put him to bed." Cap grinned softly.

Craig carefully set aside his paper and rose.

Bob joined him. "Come on, Cheerful. Let's tuck you in for a nap." he said to the oblivious Chet.

"Idon'twannawalk." Kelly slurred.

"That's okay, we'll carry you." Bellingham said. And together, he and Craig hefted up Chet, chair and all, between them by the handles.

Barking, Henry happily escorted the trio, nipping ankles playfully to help them along their way.

"Night, Chet!" Marco called out, waving as he read a National Geographic magazine over coffee.

Photo: Cap sitting next to a sleepy Chet.

Photo: Brice looking confused in the kitchen.

Photo: The gang gathered around a stokes hanging cradle in the bunk room.

Photo: Cap looking at everyone matter of factly over folded arms.

Photo: Marco and Chet grinning like banshees.

Photo: Henry peeking around the side of the couch.

**************************************************  
From:patti k () Sent:Sat 9/18/10 10:13 AM Subject: Chemistry

Johnny Gage had just finished changing into his street clothes at Mayfair. He zipped up his leather jacket as defense against the late evening's chill.

He was about to leave for the parking lot and his rover for the night when a shadow joined him at the entrance to the ambulance door leading into Rampart's ER.

It was EMT Arnold, wearing jeans and a thick Mexican Cabana weave pullover with a hood. "Hey, there, Gage." she waved.

"Oh, hi Rosalie, uh, do you need an escort out to your car?"  
he asked. "Security's notorious for always being too busy to offer one almost every hour of the day or night."

The petite flaxen haired EMT just smiled.  
"I don't need one. I'm a black belt and I'm packing concealed pepper.  
Ponch just gave it to me."

"Oh, uh, he did?" Johnny gaped.

"Yeah. He found out where I live."

"Oh? Where's that?" Gage grinned lopsidedly. "Man, I didn't mean to pry."  
he said, immediately taking a verbal backstep.

"Yes, you did." Arnold grinned, hefting up her duffle bag higher onto her shoulder.

Johnny kept on gushing.  
"I had... no business diving into your personal life like that. I was just curious about you. I ask questions when... I'm curious." Gage sputtered, really feeling his tongue trip over his teeth. "Especially when a girl's as pretty as you."

"Oh, what about the ugly ones? Do you just walk right on by them?"

Gage choked on his reply.

Rosalie grinned again and didn't mince words. "Ponch made a pass, too. But he's not my type. Too macho. I really hate guys who pump up their career life stories just to impress a girl."

"You do?" Gage floundered. ::That was gonna be my angle to start to connect with her.:: he thought. "Well, what DO you like?" he asked. ::I can't believe I just said that.:: he agonized mentally. But outwardly, he just schooled his face into mild hopefulness.

"Honesty and up front truthfulness. Kind of like what you're doing right now."  
she admitted, straight faced and yawning a bit.

"So I'm not coming on too strong?" he asked, not translating her mixed signals too well.

"Nope."

"And I don't seem too pushy to you?"

"Nope. Your approach is refreshing. I can read you like a book."

"So I take it you get hit on a lot." Gage suggested boldly, wincing against possible rebuttal from a crush.

"And I'm guessing that you get dumped an awful a lot." she said openly.

Gage winced, feeling nerdy.  
"Yeah." Johnny sagged. "I guess I like girls so much that I just try too hard."

Rosalie cocked her head and pursed her lips, thinking. "Do you always try to be so eager with just nurses and journalists? That's what I've heard."

"You.. heard about ...me?" Gage sputtered.

"Yeah. Word gets around." she smiled with amusement. "About who to avoid.  
And who not to." she smirked, moving just a little closer. "Actually, Valerie is my best friend, the one you used to date who had the three kids and a dog?  
You and Roy took care of her after you saw her get hit by a car. I was one of the EMTs who was there to transport her. I was waiting in the rig on an observation ride along with Mayfair. I had just been hired and that was my first day at work."

"And..and you saw us... that day?" he said, wanly.

"The whole thing."

Johnny blinked and blinked again. But then he just said simply. "My reputation precedes me. I have no defense." he shrugged, giving up.

"That's okay. I like you anyway. Take my bag?" Rosalie asked, handing it out.

"Sure. Are you hungry at all? I mean, I know it's midnight, but I'm starving. Roy didn't believe me when I told him I really needed that sandwich." said Gage, taking her uniform duffle from her hand and flinging it easily onto his own shoulder.

Rosalie brushed her long sandy, wind blown hair out of her eyes.  
"We can go to a diner. My roommate won't be back for a few hours yet. She worries about me."

"She's not...Valerie is she?"

"No, silly. Valerie got married, remember?"

"Not really. I just seem to remember her really memorable kids." Gage frowned. "And the fact that she was really eager to marry me."

"That's a laugh. I feel the same way you do about her parenting style." Rosalie said. "I'm not going to be that kind of mother when I get married. For that matter,  
I may not even have any kids. It's not like I have any great urge to rush off and have babies just because my friends do. I wanna... live a little." she shared.

"Oh, really? So do I. I mean, I do, sometimes. Oh, you know what I mean. I'm an open book to you." He finally looked her straight in the eyes and wiped all self consciousness away from his demeanor. "Rosalie, would you care to go out with me? I mean, not as coworkers just to eat after work, or even friends. Well, I- I mean yes, as friends, but also..."

".. with you like out on a first date?" Arnold interjected helpfully.

"Yeah." Gage said. "I- I wouldn't try anything."

"Liar." she smirked. "You're a hot blooded guy. And a firefighter to boot."

"Well, I'm a civilized fireman. Roys says I might be awkward with women but that I also possess some manners as a.. compensating, saving grace despite my career choice." he offered, nervously clearing his throat.

"He does, does he?" Arnold grinned. "I'll just have to test that later by asking DeSoto about it, now won't I?"

"Feel free. I keep no secrets from him."

"Just Chet." Arnold suggested, teasing.

Johnny sputtered again. "How'd you find out about him and me?"

"Like I said. Word gets around. Firefighters gossip about female Mayfair EMTs and we gossip..."

"...about male firefighters. I got it." Johnny frowned ruefully.

Rosalie shrugged. "It's a two way street."

Johnny suddenly snapped his fingers, suspicious. "Stoker. He's been talking to you."

"So what if he has? He's my friend, too. He cares about your happiness."

"Since when does an engineer ever care about a paramedic? Beyond just business?"

"Mike says that when you're happy, only then is the whole station happy. Whatever that means."

Johnny cleared his throat again. "I... have a tendency to.. emote a little." he said, putting his hands onto his blue jeaned hips.

"Roy told me." Rosalie chuckled.

They stared at each other, only moving out of the way for Rampart staff coming or going out of the busy ambulance doors.

"Look, are we gonna be an item? Or not?" he finally asked, tossing a finger back and forth between their stomachs. "I know, I'm a typical impatient, rutting male."

"Gage, I think it's sweet. Shall we go eat?" she said, letting him off the hook.

He stared at her, looking for a female ploy. ::You're not a book to me, I'll have you know.:: he thought privately to her. He sighed in relief when her eyes started twinkling merrily. "I'll follow your feet." Gage said, finally relaxing, seeing only genuine attraction there. "Hey! We just made our first poem, Rosalie. Did you hear that?"

"I'll carve it into a tree." she said with amusement, offering him her hand easily.

"Hey, you're cold."

"Not any more." she smiled.

Photo: Rampart's ambulance entrance.

Photo: Rosalie, grinning, wearing a rust blouse.

Photo: Mayfair's open ambulance doors.

Photo: Gage, wearing a rust shirt, grinning in a hallway.

************************************************** From: patti k () Sent:Sun 9/19/10 12:35 AM Subject: Smoted..

In the parking lot, Ponch turned to Jon Baker as they put on their helmets and checked their motorbikes. "Do we need to report back to Central that we've been released from our Mayfair ride along observation day?" Frank asked.

Baker thought about it. "Nah. They've already got our schedules down for the whole summer, barring any sudden changes."

"Oh, you mean like the tunnel fire." Ponch said, putting on his leather gloves.

"Yep."

Ponch got on his cycle. "I have a feeling we're gonna get called away from our daily routine more often."

"Of course." said Jon. "We're doing two jobs at the same time. Just like the fire department."

"Nuh Uh. Not them. I heard that their battalion chief assigned a pair of replacements." Frank commented. "They're not bad guys to work with. And boy, do they know their stuff. I like that." he grinned toothily. Then he noticed something. "Hey! That's Rosalie!" he said out loud, seeing her in the gloom of the dark lot.

She turned and waved at the sound of her name.

Johnny turned, too, smiling. And then he put his arm around Arnold possessively, on purpose, as they hurried away for food. Together.

"That fink!" Ponch cursed, shoving un-needed sun glasses away into a pocket fold. "He stole my future girlfriend." he said, glaring at them as they walked.

Jon just shrugged. "That's just it. Arnold's not your girlfriend." Baker said with a smile.

"Yet." Ponch spat. "And I know how the fire department works once they get their greedy little hooks on you or something of yours after they put their minds to it!"

Baker just chuckled. "Yeah, they never let go and they never give up." he said with admiration. "I like that."

"And I hate that." Ponch moped, still angry. "Gage just cost me my pepper spray can."

"You can always get a new one from Requisitions. Tell them you lost it trying to get that teenager out of that burning car today."

"No."

"Why not?" Jon asked.

"Because I really lost it to a very beautiful, safety needy lady I thought I could really care about." he said, his lower lip quivering with tears that nearly overcame him.

Baker froze in his pre-checks, really studying Ponch's face. "You learned all that about Rosalie in just one day?" he gaped.

"Yeah, it was love at first sight." Ponch sniffed.

"Not for her it looks like." Jon finally said when he saw her reclasp hands with Johnny as he guided her genteelly into the driver's seat of a green AMC Matador.

Poncherello finally relented. "Ah, you win some, you lose some, partner." he beamed. "What do you think I did wrong?"

"You tried too hard." Baker said, revving up his ignition in a test. "See you in the morning, bright and early."

"Yeah, in about five hours." Frank groused, still remembering the smell of Rosalie's freshly washed hair with sadness. "See you then."

-  
"So how did it go?" Kel asked as he settled in with a glass of wine at Dixie's place, on a couch. He opened the afghan he had draped about himself invitingly to her, noticing her fatigue and chill hunched body posture.

McCall dove under his warm arm and curled up next to him but refused an offered sip of his Cabernet. She snuggled down, cheek to cheek with him companionably. Dixie sighed. "We had a gruesome death on a scene already. So it wasn't such a nice first day as an ambulance company manager."

Kel hugged her and kissed Dixie's head. "I'm sorry, hon. How'd they take it?"

"Bad. Roy and Johnny had to run the usual interference. But these EMTs are so green, I'm not sure that it did any good."

"Yeah? Well, you'll find out in the morning at any rate." Brackett said.

"Find out about what?"

"Oh, probably how many decided not to come back for another go." he replied.

"Are you saying if they quit or not? Kel, these are really good people. They really really care about being a part of the business. I got that feeling from all of them right away. Very strongly."

"If so, then you have absolutely nothing to worry about." Kel smiled, kissing her nose.  
"Come on. Let go. Relax. I'll watch you sleep and wake you at four thirty in time for work."

Dixie never remembered lowering her heavy head onto Kel's shoulder before she washed away into a blissful, deep slumber.

-  
Joe Early decided he had gotten off lucky being the only on call M.D. specialist besides Kel not working a double shift. He felt well rested and ready to handle anything. ::Anything except this.:: he thought.

The smoothly running, well organized emergency room of Head Nurse Sharon Walters,  
was no longer that. ::It's not her fault. We just got busy.:: Joe reasoned inside. ::Same as always.:: He turned back his attention onto his current patient seated on a treatment gurney.

"My dogs are howling, I tell you! And others all over the neighborhood! And my headache is back. Don't you know what that means, doctor?" she wailed, upset.

Joe set down his chart meaningfully as he put on his best professional smile. "Mrs. Barton.  
All of your tests have come back negative. Your brain scan's fine. X-rays are normal.  
You check out. So does all of your labwork. You are not having another stroke."

"Really?" said the fifty something, tearful, slight woman.

"Really." he beamed.

"Well, the last time the dogs started howling everywhere, I had the big one."

::Not big enough.:: came Joe's unbidden thought. He squashed it immediately.  
"When was that?" Dr. Early asked.

"1964."

Joe sighed and dropped his head. "Mrs. Barton."

"What, doctor?" she asked breathlessly, fearful.

"Go home. You'll be okay. The dogs have to stop barking sometime, don't they?"  
he blinked pleasantly.

"Well.." she sighed, studying her own flowing EKG rhythm on a nearby monitor. "If you say so. If you think that's best. All right." she nodded timidly.

"Okay." Joe said, expansively clapping his hands together. The woman jumped.  
"I'll have Sharon draw up your discharge paperwork. Hang on, just a sec for that."  
he said, backing out of the room. He winced when the wall of loud chaotic noise outside returned once more to assault his ears after the peace of the treatment room. "Sharon." he called out to Walters as the crowded emergency room was quickly sorted out. "Sharon!" he yelled louder as she directed arriving stretcher traffic to preplanned out destinations.

"Yes, Joe? Sorry, I'm-"

"Who's next?" Joe shouted over the din.

"The dog bite in Five."

"Dog bite? Not another one." he bemoaned.

"Fraid so. That's what caused his heart attack. But don't worry, he's stable.  
The paramedics brought him back about a minute before they got here."  
she grinned.

"Okay, sounds like a top priority to me. I'll be in there with him." Joe pointed, exaggerating his gestures to be understood since voice communication wasn't working so hot.

"I'll mark you down." Sharon shouted back with a firm nod, holding up her chart.

Joe escaped once more into someone's oasis of false quiet as he got back to work.

The fun, was just beginning.

Photo: Jon and Ponch standing by their motorcycles.

Photo: Gage dining with a girl.

Photo: Dixie kissing Dr. Brackett on her couch.

Photo: A growling dog.

Photo: A worried blond.

Photo: A peachy faced Joe Early.

Photo: Joe chatting with Sharon Walters in a hallway.

From: patti k () Subject: Self Analysis Sent:Mon 9/20/10 1:35 AM

The coffee machine was working overtime in Rampart's main staff lounge. It was four forty in the morning. Ponch, Jon,  
Roy, Johnny, Dixie and Joe Early were all clustered around the table with a breakfast brunch hosted by Mayfair Ambulance, Inc. owners, to thank the hospital, fire and police departments for a smooth county merger and successful first day of operation.

"Wow, this is quite a spread." said Gage, patting his stomach in anticipation of a feast.

Roy leaned into him, whispering. "Maybe not for you and that bottomless pit." he quipped, glancing down at Johnny's actively rumbling interior that he could hear.

Johnny merely smiled. "I was...busy...last night." he said in a subtle hint.

"So who's the unlucky lady?" DeSoto grinned.

"Very funny. We weren't amorous, we were.. Well, we were talking to each other all night." he said, with a look of confusion.

"To? Not with?" Roy asked with raised eyebrows.

"Yeah. I'd say "to" because I'm not exactly sure I completely understood half the things she said. You know, like how she was feeling, what her thoughts were about the world at large, how she felt about guys..."

"Oo." Roy winced in sympathy. "Now there's a toughie." he said. "I've been married to Joanne fifteen years now and there are still days when we either can't or don't understand one another in face to face conversation."

Gage stopped loading food onto his paper plate. "Well then how do you get around that to the point of finally figuring out what you both mean?"

"You muddle through." he shrugged.

Johnny wasn't satisfied. "Nah.. Different angle. When exactly did the two of you discover that you were entirely suited for one another?"

"You just know." DeSoto smirked, realizing that his answer would bug the snot out of Johnny. He wasn't disappointed.

"Now that's just pure craziness. You just know?" Gage gaped.

"Yep." said Dixie, who had been overhearing easily as she picked choice bunches of grapes to go along with her eggs benedict and powdered sugar donut. "That's about the size of it. Sorry, Johnny, but your voice carries really well in small spaces."

"Great. Now I'm not happy, or hungry." Johnny groused, not pleased that he wasn't getting what they already knew.

"Yes you are." said Joe Early as he looked down at another growl from Johnny's midgut.

Dixie shifted her plate to a single hand, waitress tray style. "Tell you what."  
she offered. "I'll give you a woman's intuition about your date, if I know her,  
in trade for a fireman/paramedic's opinion on a certain working female nurse we both know. Deal?" McCall asked, raising serious eyebrows as she offered Johnny a handshake palm.

Roy watched preceedings with interest, nursing a hot cup.

Gage smiled crookedly, intrigued. "Deal." he said, accepting her grasp. "Who is she?" he asked lifting his head.  
"Who is she?" Dixie said at the same time.

Johnny narrowed his eyes and cocked his jaw sidewise. "Rosalie Arnold." he volunteered in challenge.

"Really?" Roy asked, surprised, almost spitting out his sip of coffee.

They both glared at him.

"Sorry." DeSoto said, nosing out of it.

"All right." Dixie replied, studying Johnny's face like a rival, intent and serious.  
"She's me." she gestured simply.

"You're kidding." Gage gaped.  
"You're kidding." Roy sputtered simultaneously.

This time, at their mutual stares, DeSoto melted out of their closer quarters while raising surrendering hands of humble mute apology.

Dixie turned back to the focus of her attention. Gage was no longer chewing any food. "I'm not kidding." she finally grinned, without moving, or breaking her divulging stance.

Gage swallowed. "Oh. Uh. Okay." he said, thoroughly taken aback.

"You first." she pegged, narrowing her own eyes. "I've been waiting all spring for an answer to this."

Johnny's ill at ease did not go away. He cleared his throat. "May I ask just one tiny one word question?" he peeped.

Dixie finally let her smile come easy and she blinked. "Sure."

"Why?"

McCall didn't even flinch or look away from him. "Because gray hair really gets heavy on the head when it first starts coming in and not long after, you begin to feel like you're over the-"

"...hill." Joe cheerfully interjected, flashing gimme more fingers while she struggled.

"..hump!" Dixie corrected, glaring at Dr. Early with a fake angry smile. She ignored him.

"Thank you for your honesty." Gage said gravely, inclining his head. "I'll,  
uh, try to answer you honestly."

"So will I." Roy said, puzzled as well, but as eager as Gage to get it right.

Dixie licked her lips and squared her feet, setting down her plate. "I'll take whatever you two dish out." she closed her eyes. "Okay, I'm ready." she said, clasping her hands together to still them. The first crack of apprehension colored her voice. "Tell me about...me." she requested,  
raising her eyebrows nervously.

DeSoto's puzzlement only mounted and he was the first to touch her arm in reassurance. "Dixie? Are you beginning to doubt your own abilities?"

She suddenly let out the breath she had been holding in a rush.  
".Bye!" she blurted out quickly, snatching her food up again. She fled to a more crowded area of the lounge without looking back at anyone as she retreated.

Roy and Johnny just looked at each other in confusion. Still in mid gesture and thought.

Joe nodded his head sagely. "Good answer."

Gage grumbled in irritation. "We haven't said anything yet."

"Yes, you did." Joe sniffed, still amused. "You both implied that you hadn't noticed any difference in either her stellar career performance, or in Dixie, for years. Same thing half the staff's been telling her for weeks,  
ever since she started imagining a non-existent change in herself one day while taking a break in the base station room."

"Mid life crisis?" Gage guessed, floundering hopelessly.

"Women don't get those." Roy countered, shaking his head. "They get more flexible to change with age. It comes with motherhood."

The two of them suddenly did a double take when a light bulb went off for Roy. DeSoto stared at Joe, who quickly found the crumb scattered tablecloth interesting beyond all distraction to the point of sharpening the creases of already folded buffet napkins unnecessarily. Then Roy got mad. "Tell her she can adopt my kids any day she feels like whenever she feels the need.  
It's only a tiny change. She's not old yet, despite that! " he declared.

"In spite of what?" Johnny asked.

"Come on, Clueless." Roy hissed at his partner, upset at Dixie being fearful.  
"Time to cash in on your side of the deal, okay?" Roy said, dragging Gage away by the arm, hinting strongly with a head motion for Johnny to just drop it.

Early sighed and got back down to the business of eating and watching the early morning news on the ceiling screen.

Gage was still rankled in confusion when he finally carried over his overloaded Coronet plate full of food over to Dixie's side. Roy quickly rescued Johnny's coffee cup when Gage had to suddenly rescue his own plate from a fatal sag on two edges suffering the laws of gravity. He looked up at Dixie after fumbling a little. "We're glad you're happy now. Can you help me?" he asked, miffed for unknown reasons he couldn't identify.

Dixie was calm now, and eating hungrily. "Yes." she said, back to her old self again. "The two of you look right, feel right, smell right-"

"Smell right?" Johnny gaped.

Roy held up appeasing fingers. "Ah. Women do that." he suggested to Johnny dismissively. "It's what I call the dirty diaper gene."

"...so you ARE right for each other." Dixie finally finished with an analyzing flourish. "Rosalie's definitely the one."

Gage's face fell from ambivalence into one of sheer joy. "I'm happy!" he beamed at Roy. "I never had a single doubt about her." he grinned stupidly.  
Then he headed off to the banquet table to reinforce his platter with another plate for support.

Dixie and Roy just looked at each other, slack jawed, back the way he had gone.

DeSoto broke the pregnant pause when they both turned to one another,  
frowning. "Isn't that how this whole conversation got started?"

"Yes!" Dixie chuckled. "Johnny's just being Johnny." she said, getting up from a couch to go join him.

Roy was left behind with his thoughts. "Oh, yeah?" he hollered. "Well, you're still you!" he reinforced on the other subject that Joe couldn't share directly.

Dixie just waved a few casual fingers at him in thanks and continued on her way, not feeling the holes Roy was burning into her back.

Across the room, Joe Early raised his coffee cup high to toast Roy's comment.

Photo: Gage snarfing food from Dixie's breakfast plate.

Photo: Joe Early looking amused in the break room.

Photo: Roy smiling in a sweater.

Photo: A buffet plate of breakfast food.

Photo: Gage in a brown shirt, grinning.

**************************************************  
From:patti k () Sent:Mon 9/27/10 9:12 AM Subject: Throat Of The Earth..

"So, partner, are you ready for another day?" asked Ponch, setting aside his empty buffet plate.

Jon Baker contentedly sighed and stretched his long length from where he sat on the couch. "Yep. I'm well fed. My boots are polished,  
and I'm no longer doing dog duty."

Ponch just laughed. Loud and long. "Wait a minute. I thought you liked dogs." said Frank, polishing up his smokey mirrored shades on a buffet napkin.

"Not when they're lost and I know that the pound's probably not gonna find their owners in time."

Ponched dropped his head, his mood immediately sorrowful. "Harlan told me you found six last night, running loose on the freeway."

"Yeah. And not one of them had a collar. It's weird that there were so many."  
Baker said, exasperated.

"Did some activist free them from a life of bondage as that junk yard's watch dogs again?"

"Nope. These are different dogs. I found them all by themselves. One by one. It's too bad we've no direct way to find their owners."

"I'm glad Harlan isn't going to turn them over to the pound just yet.  
He knows they'd be under a death sentence if we called for a pick up." Frank said.

"I'll take one if any are small." said Dixie. "Bonnie's son needs a buddy."  
she explained. "He started howling last night for the first time."

"They're all big." Jon shared. "That's probably how they all got over their yard's fences. I'm glad we've the space out back of CHP Central to house them for a week or so while we make some phone calls and post flyers."

Ponch smiled proudly at that. "I'm good at guessing their names."

"And Harlan's good with a camera." Jon chuckled.

Dixie handed over ten dollars. "Here. This is to feed them. Good luck with the hunt."

"Thanks, Dixie. Harlan will sure appreciate this. Ponch and I have already given all we can."

"Tell Harlan I'll hand over my last meal if that's what it takes to save more.  
Just how good is your placement using Ponch's knack for rediscovering names?"

"Excellent. Last month, we had three saves out of three. Man, were their owners happy they saw our Police for Paws flyers hanging about their kid's school yards." Jon said.

Dixie sighed, "I love dogs. But boy, last night really challenged even my tolerance for mischief. Beau kept waking up Kel and I as we slept on the couch."

"Not hungry?" Baker guessed.

"Nope. His bowl was full. Water, too." McCall yawned.

"Puppies will be puppies." Johnny chuckled.

"Beau just turned two." she countered. "He's no longer a puppy, Johnny."

Joe Early wandered over and sat down next to Dixie on the striped lounge couch. "Glad that's over?" he asked her, about facing Roy and Johnny's appraisal of her career and self, being sneaky.

"Yes." she answered honestly.

Ponch thought she was talking about Beau, her Yorkshire terrier.  
"Ah, you'll sleep better tonight." Ponch said tossing his head. "If he's going through a phase, he'll settle down fast enough."

Early raised his eyebrows. "What's the subject?" he asked about their conversation.

"Dogs." Jon Baker offered.

"Oh.. those." Joe sighed, rubbing his tired forehead. "Don't get me onto that topic this morning."

"Why? Dogs're fun." Dixie asked.

"Every patient who came in last night had problems associated with dogs in some way. They either got bit by a dog, tripped by a dog, startled into a heart attack by a dog..."

"You're kidding." gaped Johnny Gage, joining them as he sat down onto a nearby chair to eat. "Chet called me last night saying that Henry was acting weird and asked me whether or not the station should call a vet for him."

"What did he do?" Dixie asked.

Gage smiled. "He took ownership of Chet's mop in the apparatus bay and wouldn't let it go."

"He did what?" McCall laughed.

"Yeah. And he didn't even chew it up." DeSoto chimed in. He just looked at Johnny wearily. "Kelly, called me about him, too."

Johnny's face pulled into a frown. "Maybe he's starting to get senile. I mean nobody actually knows his real age for sure. Not even the vet. Remember how he was a few days ago?"

"Yeah." Roy laughed. "He attacked our resuscitation manikin during a monthly skills exercise." he told the others.

They winced in sympathy.

"Won't hurt anything." DeSoto said. "That dummy's supposed to look ripped up.  
It's crafted to look massively injured."

"Not for trauma by dog teeth." Gage scoffed.

"We can paint some red around the puncture marks. The other shift's'll never know the difference." Roy replied.

"That could work." Johnny smiled easily. "Cap's butt will be off the hook with Headquarters for hiding damaged property."

"He's not hiding what Henry did. The station's probably been so busy that he hasn't had time to report it yet." DeSoto countered.

"If you say so." Gage said, inhaling another donut.

All six of them piped down when a news bulletin on the television near them said a familiar word. "...dogs all over the neighborhood. It's like a scene from One Hundred and One Dalmations. Callers this morning joked about 'The Twilight Bark' going on all across town. Are canines adopting the traditional role of barnyard roosters? Only time will tell." said the newscaster.

Everyone hospital staff in the lounge laughed at the irony of the news story, recalling their night shift involving dog owner patients.

All except Dixie. She just glanced at Joe with a suddenly disturbed face. "Joe.  
Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"What?" he asked.

"Earthquake." she said. "I'm going to call the USGS hotline to see if they've sent out any kind of early alert for pre-shocks."

"I didn't feel anything." Early told her. "And you're good with tremblers, too."

Dixie's frown only deepened.  
"That's why I'm getting the heebie jeebies. Be right back." she said, moving to a scanner set on top of the coffee machine. She turned it up.

Every head in the room lifted at the sound of the scanner's familiar transmission voice. Nothing was remiss. She turned it back down.

Dixie bit her lip. "Huh." she grunted. Then she picked up the black phone on the wall to call the agency directly for fresher news.

A minute later, she rejoined the others in front of the TV.

"So?" asked Joe. "What's the USGS's take on things. Did you tell them about the dogs?" he joked.

Dixie directed a tongue jutting face at him and spoke. "No. I didn't. Their staff says everything's quiet. Not much going on with any fault anywhere in the entire state this morning."

"That's a relief after the night we've had." Dr. Early told her.

"What's going on?" asked Ponch.

"I'm not sure." Dixie said. "Guys, something must have set off all the dogs on us."

"You don't believe all that animals-predict-disaster hoopla do you, Dix?" asked Johnny.

"The vote's still out on that one. The theory's still too new." Jon Baker shrugged.

Gage got a grin on his face. "Maybe it's woman's intuition." he said spookily.

Dixie smacked him a good one on the arm.

"Hey. I'm still bruised there from all of yesterday's great fun." he defended.

Rosalie Arnold sailed into the room and immediately sought out Dixie.  
"Oh, hi, Johnny. Dixie, is everything okay at the hospital? I just got the funniest feeling a few hours ago. Something's seriously off."

"Are you sure it isn't the fact that the coffee pot's drained dry again?" Johnny joked, taking her around the waist into a hug from where he sat in the chair.

Rosalie kissed him on the top of his head. "I'm not a caffeine addict like you are. I'm just... poking around a little because I'm noticing something anomalous."

"The USGS says nothing on radar." McCall told her.

"Tell that to the dogs." Rosalie scoffed. "They woke me up last night. And then all night. D*mned neighbor. I knew I should have moved out into the country."

"You still can. My ranch is plenty big enough." Johnny grinned.

"Don't rush me." Arnold smirked.

"Well.." said Joe. "There's nothing we can do until something happens, right all?" he sighed. "We humans can't predict the future."

"Maybe we should start listening to other voices." said Dixie about the newscast. "And plan ahead a little."

"Listen to what?" Ponch asked. "So dogs are going crazy. Maybe it's the full moon or even some smoke finally arriving from San Bernardino County's brush fires that's setting them all off. They go nuts for simpler things sometimes."

Joe Early added more. "The hospital administrators won't be happy if you call in an unscheduled Condition Orange exercise just to stock us up in supplies and personnel based on a whim, Dixie."

Rosalie and Dixie just frowned, not comforted.

Joe Early got to his feet. He affectionately patted Dixie's knee. "Glue your ear to the USGS alert radio if you have to today. But by all manmade indications, all's calm on the western front." he grinned.

"That's what worries me." she mumbled. Her look was shared with Arnold.

Somewhere outside, next to Rampart, a nearby yard leashed neighborhood dog, began to bark. His loud ansiness set off a cacaphony in others that began once more, to spread across the city.

The sun began to peak over the horizon of the mountains, filling the Carson City basin, with orange light.

Photo: A grinning Ponch and Jon in their CHiPs uniforms.

Photo: Dixie using a black phone.

Photo: Joe Early seated by coffee cup shelves.

Photo: Roy and Johnny in labcoats, drinking coffee by a door.

Photo: Rampart's secondary entrance and Emergency sign.

Photo: A bulldog in a yard at dawn, on alert.

*************************************************** From:patti k () Sent:Tue 9/28/10 7:24 AM Subject: The Silent Killer

Dixie almost spit out her last mouthful of hot coffee when she spied her watch. "Umphh! Look at that! It's almost five o'clock! We'll be late!" she said to everyone scheduled to work at Mayfair.

"Time flies." Ponch chuckled, rising from his chair and snarfing down the rest of his breakfast in a few bites. "Hate to eat and run. See you doctor. It's been a pleasure." he said to Joe Early as the five of them made for the door. Frank slammed dunked his empty plate, cup and crumpled napkins into a nearby garbage can, making its lid spin around. Jon Baker just shook his head at his antics.  
"Likewise." smiled Joe as he watched the group depart. When the lounge door finally closed, he sighed. "More food for me." he said under his breath, rubbing his hands together. But then he remembered someone who wasn't there and started frowning in sympathy. "And Sharon Walters."

Early moved to a house phone to page the exhausted nurse to the feast left behind.

"You're all still here?" Dixie muttered as her feet shuffled to a halt in Mayfair's rec room.

"Of course." said the streetwise Mel. "Did it look like we were gonna let a dead body scare us away yesterday? Some EMTs we'd be if that ever happened." he snorted with a smile. The others surrounding him laughed and nodded in agreement.

"Thanks, guys." Dixie sighed in relief. "Sorry I ever doubted you." she told the assembed group still getting ready for the day all about the room. "Did everybody find their lockers okay?"

"Yes, Miss McCall." chorused a few voices. "We wrote who has what locker down on the hanging wall chart in your office."

"Good deal. I'll have name plates engraved before the week's out. Oh, and head for the main nurse's lounge. Mayfair bought a brunch breakfast buffet for us all.  
Last names A to H, go eat. You've got twenty five minutes. The rest of the alphabet, you're next." Dixie barked. "The food's still steaming but the coffee's had it. I'll make our own pot hot and fresh back here. And it'll be well guarded."  
she promised as she headed into the office.

Roy and Johnny headed for the row of ambulances flanking three walls of the garage bay. They noticed one rig coming back from a run. It was a team of corpsmen. "How'd it go?"

"Kid bit by a dog." the older one sighed.

"Story of the hour." Gage chuckled. "You should see the ER."

"We were there." groaned his partner.

"Go eat. Nurses' lounge." Roy told them. "Breakfast is on the boss today.  
Tell your friends." he grinned, putting hands inside of his white pants. "We'll restock what you've used this shift for ya so you'll get paid with the meal." he offered.

"Best news I've heard all day." the driver smiled. He kicked the ambulance into gear and pulled into its assigned slot. "Thank you, sir. You're all right for a civilian."

"I'm in disguise." said DeSoto, smartly saluting him to prove he was a veteran.  
"At ease." he joked as they drove by.

Johnny turned to face Roy. "So where's the main supply room? I didn't get a chance to find it yesterday."

"Over there." said DeSoto. "See the big red X?"

Gage looked in the direction Roy was pointing. A large red cross was painted over a locked double set of doors. "Oh, yeah. How'd I miss that? I feel like I'm in a M*A*S*H*unit. All that's missing are the big green tents." he remarked. "I think I've got the right key." he said, heading over in that direction. "What's their rig number again?"

"Seventeen." DeSoto replied. "There should be a cart so you can load up just to the inside of the door. I'll go get their carbons on supplies used."

They separated.

McCall flicked on the light over her desk and blinked at the stack of run reports the night shift had left her. The bundle was held neatly together with a bow tie of cleverly arranged ace wrap. "Cute, fellas." she jabbed at the corpsmen parading mischievously by her door. "I feel down right homey. All that's missing is an apple and a spider plant."

"Wait until tomorrow." one whispered behind his hand.

"Aw, you guys don't have to do that." she groaned, embarrassed.

"We gotta spoil you, ma'am. We don't see that many dames who aren't already servicefolk on base. You give us something to look at." the corpsman teased.

Dixie capitulated by posing like a centerfold on the desk.

A cat call rang out from a new passing man who did a double take at her on his way to food.

Dixie obliged by blowing him a kiss. Then she moved to her chair and got to work filing.  
"Mister, I can understand that." she smiled. "I used to be one of those servicewomen."

He chuckled and escaped into Rampart.

"What was that?" Gage asked Roy who had joined him in the supply room.

"Never mind." smiled DeSoto, who saw the whole escapade. "It's a military thing."

Suspicious, Johnny peeked around the corner of the large set of doors but didn't see anything amiss; Dixie was working quietly and a door was still swinging through which hungry employees had disappeared. "Oh."

They were both immersed deep inside the returned ambulance, double checking its inventory to the master sheet, when Rosalie Arnold climbed on board.

"Hey. Gage." she said, feisty.

Johnny looked up with innocent eyes full of hearts. "Yeah?"

Arnold melted some of her irk in light of his fast budding affection. "What was with that possessive move-in-with-me act this morning at the buffet?"

"Ponch was there. I felt threatened." Johnny shrugged, turning back to the oxygen flow meter he was testing.

"No need to be. I'd deck him if he tried anything." she snapped, disappearing back the way she came.

"Black belt, eh?" Roy smirked at his partner once she was gone.

Johnny sniffed. "Probably. Can't wait until we start wrestling a little." he said,  
eyes goggling with amusement and appreciation.

"I'll make sure I have a Mayfair ready." DeSoto promised, changing the sheets on the ambulance stretcher.

He was nailed in the back of the head with an oxygen mask.

A fireman, polishing a fire boat in its slip at Station 110 in Marina del Rey, suddenly cursed when the Crestliner lurched in its moorings, jarring his hand. But then his mouth started flopping open when all he saw beneath the boat, was mud. "Oh, sh*t!" He scrambled to his feet and hit the panic button on the dock, running for the main station house on the beach avenue.  
"Everybody head to high ground! The water's receding big time! Eye glass the horizon, man! Is there a wave?"

His coworkers punctuated his alert with an automated evacuation recording to all the boat owners at the water line in the marina. Station 110's Captain Marley started barking orders. "Grab all the doors! Somebody take the boat all the way out! Get as many of these civilian boaters to follow you in theirs. Get everybody you can entirely out of the bay! I'll go call the Coast Guard. Move our engines straight up the hill! Break that park's closed road chain if you have to and spin gravel right now!"

"What is it, Captain?" shouted one of his paramedics, rushing down the deck in response to the panic klaxon in the slip.

Marley's eyes finally saw it. A dark tongue of blue a mile long rearing up a head about five miles out to sea. "It's a G*d d*mned tsunami!"

L.A. County Headquarters sounded the Emergency Broadcast System in full activation. ##L.A. to all Stations. Tsunami warning. Marina del Rey. Unknown time of arrival. Unknown coastline scale. Station 110 has evacuated to high ground. Respond to vantage points overlooking open water according to Battalion grid assignments. This is not a drill. Repeat. This is not a drill.##

Photo: Back end of a Mayfair ambulance with closed doors.

Photo: Dixie McCall looking up mildly.

Photo: Mel the EMT talking in a white uniform.

Photo: Roy and Johnny talking to each other in a hallway wearing Mayfair whites.

Photo: Station 110 on the beach.

Photo: Station 110's dock and fire boat.

Photo: Ladder Truck 110 fleeing her garage.

Photo: A large tidal wave bearing down on the coast line.

**************************************************  
From:patti k () Sent:Wed 9/29/10 1:26 PM Subject: Chain Reaction..

Captain Stanley was on the phone. He was listening to what his assigned Battalion Chief was saying.

He was surrounded by the gang, listening in on simultaneous speaker, inside his office.

Battalion 1's voice was calm but rapid pace. ## This is how it's going to go, Stanley. CAL-EMA says these are the areas that are going to be inundated: Venice, Marina Del Rey, Playa Del Rey, Redondo Beach Harbor, Los Angeles and Long Beach Harbors, and the flat areas of Long Beach southward toward Seal Beach. There is going to be serious funneling effect down rivers, flood control channels, harbors, marinas, and in every bay on those beaches. For a county, we are lucky. We have relatively little beach front compared to our service area size and that will work in our favor.  
For the duration of this emergency we are keeping all fire resources within our own county borders. The National Guard is handling all non incorporated areas for rescue operations elsewhere. At home, we're dividing up the tidal wave zones by quadrangle, Hank. You, Station 127 and Station 10 will be assigned to Torrance.##

"Okay. Uh, man, this is a lot to absorb. Chief, what about Torrance's industrial docks." Cap said, tense.

##We don't have to worry about marinas or harbor docks, the Port Authority has that jurisdiction and is working with the Coast Guard.  
They are mobilizing en masse as we speak. And lifeguards are handling the population numbers on the beaches. They only have to go a few blocks inland to avoid the water. I've recommended vertical evacuation into some of the more solidly constructed larger buildings;  
hotels, warehouses. We can't do much to help beachgoers past isolated paramedic rescue squad casualty responses from the freeways, so we're going to concentrate on assessing private residences and businesses along the flood path on all the inland waterways. CHiP will call us if they find beach casualties on the highways. Also, I have every helicopter we've got already in the air who will give reports on the scale of the tsunami and where it's going. We will be coordinating with local news choppers.

##Now the Airforce, National Guard and the Navy already know they must evacuate those areas around Reservation Point and Terminal Island. They're helping each other. I'm not even going to begin to tell you how overwhelmed our HazMat and Urban Search and Rescue teams are going to be on high land around the industrial harbors. There are treatment plants and oil and natural gas refineries up and down both sides of every channel. East San Pedro and Mormon Island are going to be underwater even if that wave is under fifteen feet high. The outer breakwaters won't stop it. Our inland fire station jurisdiction there will be limited to possible rescue operations at the west end of the Vincent Thomas Toll Bridge. Other roads for us to focus on damaged bridge wise is at the Los Angeles River at Anaheim St, Hwy 710, and The Pacific Coast Highway on both sides.##

Hank started writing rapid notes. So did Mike Stoker who also had a very good working knowlege of harbor and marina paralleling roadways.  
"Chief, understood. What about our regular call volume?"

##Inland counties not on the ocean are stepping up to the plate. They will handle all non-tsunami related fire and medical calls. As of now,  
Los Angeles County Fire Headquarters is operating under emergency protocols and will be handling only our disaster related incidents. San Bernardino is on their own to tackle that forest brush fire.##

"And Station 110?" Mike Stoker asked. He knew their captain.

Cap repeated the engineer's concern.

Battalion replied. ##They all got out safe. They're on the hillside overlooking Marina del Rey in an abandoned park awaiting an assignment. Our fire boat is already sitting in water deeper than 400 meters in the open ocean. The first wave will pass right under them.##

"First wave?" asked Kelly with alarm.

The chief heard him. ##There may be more. Subsequently stronger.  
The USGS has identified the quake's origin. It was in the Central Aleutians Subduction Zone #3. A Magnitude 9.2. This is comparable to the one that sent the wave that leveled Crescent City in 1964 from Prince William Sound, Alaska.##

"The Good Friday tidal wave. I remember that." Hank said discomforted."Eleven people died there."

##Hank. Your hospitals to use will be Kaiser South Bay and Torrance Memorial Medical Centers and Rampart General Hospital. Go nowhere else with your patients. We don't want to overwhelm the system.  
I'm heading out to Ken Malloy Harbor Regional Park.  
That will be our main out-of-fire-station base of operations. The college there will provide shelter for any victims until they can be properly triaged and transported. Mayfair Ambulance has their whole fleet and all extra supplies on the way to Staging at Casey Field off 110. Go there, too, with everything you've got. Good luck.##

"You, too, sir. See you out there." Hank said. He slammed down the phone. "Marco, dump a whole bag of dry for Henry into a pot and open his dog door leading out to the yard. He can get water from our air bottle filling pool when his bowl runs out. Then help the others empty our equipment cupboards. Gang, dump everything into the engine crew cab. We'll cargo net it in place around us if we have to."

"Right, Cap." they all replied.

"Let's go. Brice, Bellingham. Grab all our air bottles and stow them on top of the squad. Don't worry about chaining them down. We won't be travelling fast enough to dump any of them. We'll be scoping the coastline on the way to Staging. Let's top off both our gas tanks. Stoker, leave our fuel pump unlocked outside.  
Somebody might need to use it after we're gone." Cap told them.

"And the station itself?" Brice asked.

"Lock her up. Nothing's gonna be left here except the sheets.  
All right, let's go. Move it!" Stanley hollered as the overhead intercom began to sound another EBS announcement from L.A. Headquarters.

"How about hooking up our brush fire trailer to the squad?" asked Bellingham.

"That'll take too long. Randomly packing the vehicles this way is far faster." Cap decided. "Besides, we don't have the man power to use all of those saws and other extrication gear. We've got one of each basic item per man as it is."

The gang hustled, doing everything at a run.

##*Blat* *Blat* *Blat*...IMPACT : Initial wave height estimations are at 16 to 22 feet above full tide mark. Stand by for disaster assignments...If landlines go down, use HT exclusively on emergency channels according to KMG signatures. All repeater towers are patent. Repeat. IMPACT : Initial wave heights are-##

"That sounds automated." Chet said, stuffing unopened gallon water jugs into secure niches on top of the hosebed of the engine.

"It is." said Cap. "Sam's probably nose deep sorting civilian phone calls right now. He'll break into the frequency if something more immediate comes up for us before we've fully repositioned."

"Everything's immediate, Cap." Lopez fretted, adding stacked boxes of trauma dressings to the floor near their passenger seats. "How are they gonna handle it all?"

"As best they can, Marco. As best they can." said Hank, clipping the row slotted truck-run battery charger for their HTs to a good place on the engine's dashboard.

On the sidelines, Henry the basset's eyes were full of tears as the salty smell of death started coming in to him on the wind.

Dixie abandoned her office, taking only a box of extra batteries for all their EMT radios, a tunic uniform and more sensible shoes.

Rosalie Arnold ran up to her. "Ma'am. We're ready to go. Inventory's been stripped down to the cobwebs." she said, keyed up, but calm.

"Good. Get going." McCall told her. "Partner up with someone."  
she told Arnold. Then she started shouting orders as she ran across the garage to activate their main doors. "Bring coats and rain gear. We may be outside for extended periods overnight. Follow Ambulance One!" she hollered. "I'll be riding in it with Roy and Johnny. They know the best way to Staging!"

Inside, Roy had the wheel. Gage and he were deep in analysis.  
"Are we taking the PCH?"

"No, two of its cloverleafs may be underwater." DeSoto replied.  
"I'm guessing anything ocean level within a mile of the water."

Dixie climbed in, hugging a box of oxygen masks. She stayed silent while they coordinated, buckling in between them into the captain's chair at the head of the stretcher.

Johnny bit his lip, hanging one of their three HTs onto a hook on the windshield. "Wilshire Boulevard. I know that's high enough.  
We pass that d*mned rusted out iron bridge crossing enough coming to and from the station."

"That's where we'll head." Roy agreed, turning on their sirens.

As the convoy of Mayfair ambulances left, they could see four helicopters running hot on each corner of Rampart's helipad.  
They were loading up critical supplies and personnel.

Dixie recognized Morton, and Early climbing on board two of them. "Where's Kel?" she said to herself. "I know he'd scream like a bat out of hell from my place to get back to work at the first sign of trouble." she mumbled. Then she spotted his sports car in his doctor's parking slot and a figure, with long lanky legs in checked pants and a leather jacket, pounding for an unclaimed bird. "There you are." she hissed in fierce gladness. Then she announced a little louder to the others. "Kel made it.  
He's on board."

"We're gonna need every doctor we can get." Gage whispered.

They had only gone a few blocks west of the hospital when the first smell of filthy saline water flooded into their open windows.

##*Blat* *Blat* *Blat* Positive secondary wave inbound. E.T.A. estimate via FEMA is forty five minutes to an hour. Stand by for initial disaster assignments from each quadrangle's Staging Area. Casualties are high. I repeat, casualities are high. ##  
came Sam Lanier's live voice.

Photo: Torrance Tsunami Inundation Map from CALEMA.

Photo: Los Angeles County quadrangle assignment map in case of a tsunami natural disaster.

Photo: Fire and CHiP units in a freeway Staging Area.

Photo: A tsunami wave engulfing a beach side park bench.

Photo: Roy, Dixie and Gage in a rescue squad looking scared.

From: patti k ()  
Sent: Thu 9/30/10 5:03 AM Subject: Staging..

A mile from staging, Brice was driving Squad 51, for he was the calmer of the two paramedics. ::A wise decision.:: Craig speculated. ::Or else we'd never get there.:: Every so often, Brice would nod his head, encouraging Bob to let off even more of some uncharacteristic nervous anticipation. The freeway was open in the middle lanes,  
for those to seaward, were glutted with horrified onlookers pulled over next to the divider, like flies on a flytrap. Some encouraged the siren and light flashing pair of emergency vehicles from Station 51 onward with frantically hurrying gestures. ::Those people are still in their right mind. Maybe they'll keep these lanes clear for other arriving services to pass through after us.:: Brice hoped. He turned his attention back to his animated partner.

"How could we have missed seeing this?" Bellingham said with exasperation, eyeing up the sun shiny sheet of brown water boiling over with debris in the harbor neighborhood below them. They could see a Coast Guard cutter easily skirting obstacles, riding the tidal wave's still landward flowing current. Bob only let go of the dashboard whenever he saw a navy raft successfully pluck a family or two from a roof of a submersed house rafting in the violent torrent.

Craig remained unemotional. "We don't have a seismic station in the Aleutian chain yet. Nobody lives there."

"Our much touted, predicted future quake was on the G*d d*mned Ring of Fire! This tiny burp in the briny's bigger than the Great 1906 San Francisco Earth Shimmy, Craig. The sh*t's gone to H*ll in a handbasket today. At least, you'd think they would have installed a million stations around the whole U.S. part of the Circle after the kind of lesson we got back in '64. Memories must have been real short in state legislature once all the bodies were neatly buried under perfectly mowed government paid for sod."

"Ring." Brice corrected gently.

"Whatever! You got my gist." Bellingham fumed. "This. Happened. Did we deserve this? A part of me says yes. Sadly enough. Are we stupid?" He began to nod in affirmation but then his eyes glistened in barely veiled horror at his own thoughts. "We continue to build houses on flood plains,  
at the edge of clifftops, in avalanche zones, near the ocean..." He threw a careless hand out the window that was giving them a panoramic view of the brand new utterly unstoppable oceanic flood in progress. It didn't have the roiling violence of a tropical or Asian tsunami. The water simply...rose and then picked up speed, sweeping away roads, buildings and bridges almost peacefully before itself on a path of destruction seemingly from horizon to horizon. Bob was cowed enough to forget to breathe for a few seconds. He took in a deep cleansing breath from the air vents that weren't as yet spilling out a stench. "I wonder how big-"

Brice was quick to cut him off, suddenly concerned. "No, Bellingham.  
You don't want to guess. Only the press does while an emergency is still in full swing. Disgusting habit. As for us, all we should care about is one single bit at a time. That you know. Preferably, in a patient lying in front of us. That's our function."

Bob stayed mute, squeezing his lips together in emotional pain. But then he spoke. "Yeah. You're right. I'm cool."

Craig could see that he wasn't and it was beginning to alarm him. He tried again. "Don't work yourself up, Bellingham. Hindsight is always 20/20." Craig told him.

Bob ran frustrated fingers through his thinning blond hair and finally let off the last of his steam. "Yeah? Well, we'd better be spot on perfect in our performance, buddy, or I'm going to be seriously pissed off."

Craig's analytical armor finally cracked, just the tiniest amount. "Yes. People are...going to die in this. It's too big to avoid and it's been too long since the last one. They won't know what it is in time enough to get away." Brice whispered, pulling smoothly into an emergency lane to skirt a pack of slowing cars in view of the altered shoreline. "Maybe we can do that kind of thinking for at least, some of them."

Bob was very quiet for a few moments, biting his lip. "But can I?"

Craig glanced over and really looked at him. "Bob, are you okay?"

Bellingham didn't look up. And when he spoke again, his voice was thick with emotion. "I lost my Uncle in '64, Craig. He...he worked at the refinery in Crescent City. It's...probably why I'm so off balance right now."

"I'm sorry." Brice said, turning his eyes back to the road to give him some privacy.

Bellingham swept up a dismissive hand. "I was...twelve or so when it happened. I...didn't even live there." Bob unclenched the two fists lying on his lap. "But we were close."

Craig smiled, genuinely. "Did you find closure?"

"Yeah, they found him. He had saved somebody's kid by shoving him up a tree before the wave swept him away. He's why I'm in the fire department." he grinned softly.

Brice did, too. "If I had a choice, if it came right down to the wire like that, that's how I'd choose to go, too."

Bob finally stretched in his seat to loosen up tense muscles. "Yep. Not a bad way to die." he agreed. "But let's make sure anybody we get our eager paws on, doesn't have to pick an ending."

Brice nodded his head without a word. None needed to be spoken.

Johnny was keenly focused as he looked out into the bay they were driving past.  
A group of fighting and crash-diving seagulls in several locations alerted him to abnormality. He glassed the waters with his binoculars. "Code F's. More than three out there." he shared quietly.

"Any still alive?" Roy asked, glancing his way from the road.

Johnny checked again, focusing carefully into the far distance. "No. They're all face down. Now there's a shark." He quickly glanced away, feeling nauseated.

Dixie took the binoculars gently from Johnny's trembling hand and offered up her thoughts. "I'll look at the edges. Better chances there for somebody to actually make it. We may not be able to stop ourselves, but we can at least call for a rescue boat to check on anybody we spot."

"Margins, it is." He glanced over his shoulder to make sure the other ambulances were following them without trouble. He glanced down at a row of single family beach houses that had proved to be absolutely no protection at all against the relentless force of the water from their overpass viaduct. "D*mn. The tsunami's speed away from the ocean isn't slowing yet."

"Where's the wave front?" DeSoto asked, keeping his eyes forward as he navigated around driver halted cars. He had chosen a way that wasn't along a main tsunami evacuation route intentionally. But the traffic was still unpredictable around them due to the gawk factor of the disaster.

Gage twisted around, peering out all of the Mayfair's front windows. "Past us already. The L.A. River's almost over its banks." he said as they drove over the old wrought iron bridge crossing that was near Station 51. Soon they drove by it. "The guys are gone. There's daylight showing through the bay doors."

"They'd be the first ones out of the starting gate, knowing Cap." Roy replied.

"Are we going to be working with them?" asked Johnny.

"Yeah. We're in the same quadrangle." Roy shared.

"And we're all gonna be wearing each other's uniforms by the time this whole thing is over. We'll be improvising between ourselves every second,  
just to cope with what we've got from minute to minute." McCall said.

"You sound like you've done this before." Gage guessed.

"Remember the Baldwin Hills Dam Break of 1963?"

"Oooo." said Roy. "Thirteen years ago. I remember that as if it were yesterday."

"I was there." McCall said. "Two hundred seventy seven homes were destroyed and five lives were lost. The reservoir's failure was attributed to subsidence caused by over-exploitation of nearby Inglewood Oil Field. I got away with a broken arm and a lost toenail."

"Wait a minute, you've been a nurse for twenty five years." Johnny realized.

"Uh huh. But on that day, I was a victim. I was trapped deeply in mud and debris and I got to watch those people die one by one as the water rose up around what was left of our houses. I was lucky enough to be on the second floor with a wall knocked out. That released some of the water pressure.  
That was also how I met Kel. He was my attending M.D. in triage. He thought I had internal injuries and stuck to my side like glue until we got to the E.R..  
I was only cold. I went into shock on him."

"Anybody would." Johnny gaped. "You all right with all this?"

"Yeah. I was younger and thinner skinned back then. I'm not that way any more."  
she smiled. "Working as a paramedic instructor toughened me up quite a bit."

Johnny looked at her thoughtfully. "Still remember our paramedic pharmacology protocols?"

Dixie angled her head. "Give me some polish. They change so often, sometimes I can't keep up with the hours I work." she admitted.

"Okay." Johnny said, rubbing his eyes, surveying the devastation where the new sea level was meeting up with the land. "For cardiac arrest, witnessed. That's if we aren't ordered to black tag them. What's the first drug of choice for an adult male, say... of my size for a work up?" he quizzed.

Dixie didn't even blink. "One milligram epinephrine 1/10,000 I.V. push, if possible.  
If not, then I'd double dose down a placed endotracheal tube followed by a 10cc saline bolus to flush it all over the bronchial tree." McCall replied. "That's after a series of stacked shocks."

"Right. Now how about that same guy, converted after times two, showing a brady rate of forty, still with no breathing?" Johnny asked.

Dixie hesitated.

"That's okay." Gage said. "We'll teach you. There aren't that many steps we can take on anything resuscitative before we max out on dosages and are stuck with just CPR and oxygen ventilation. We'll cover everything before we get to the park."

"And about pediatric dosages..." Roy told her. "They've come up with a new ALS thing called a Broslow tape that tells you those based on a kid's height like a yardstick. Covers all advanced airway sizes, too. Don't sweat it."

McCall grinned. "I'm not sweating my lack of automatic recall fellas, I'm sweating our lack of action up to this point. I wanna start digging in already. How far to-"

"Casey's Field?" Gage supplied.

"Less than two miles, barring any traffic jams." Roy replied. "Or rubber neckers."

"Well, put some wings on this thing." McCall groused, kicking the ambulance's side door with an impatient boot. "I'm absolutely climbing the walls back here." she complained.

Both Gage and DeSoto smiled widely, and began to relax.

"You know..." said Rosalie Arnold in their own Mayfair rig to EMT Mel Turner.  
"I'm starting to be really glad the governor ordered our company to combine with the county at the fire department level. We're gonna be one of the first ones out there." she grinned.

"I'm sharing your appreciation." Turner replied. "They already have the treatment tents up. Wow, that was fast." He followed the guidance of a police officer's traffic wand into the staging section of Casey's Field along the freeway marked for them.

Rosalie thumbed her HT after setting it to Ambulance One's channel. "Mayfair Three to Mayfair One."

##Go ahead.## answered Roy DeSoto.

"Are we going to be cleared to independently rove, assess, and pick up casualties for transportation?"

##Everything wet or hazy is dangerous to us until proven otherwise.## came his reply.

Dixie joined the channel. ##We'll travel into the hot zones where they need us only after being authorized ahead of time by the fire department I.C. or the Head of Search and Rescue for his or her particular disaster site and not a moment before. We'll have plenty of people coming in by truck or chopper,  
stokes or by crawling to last us a lifetime. Don't rush it.## McCall ordered.

"Yes, ma'am. Follow orders." Arnold said, cowed.

"Now what did you hope to accomplish with that stunt, honey girl?" Mel asked, his mouth flopping open.

The look on Rosalie's face was haunted. "I wanted... Well, I just wanted to hear Johnny's voice again before it gets really bad." she whispered.

"Hey." Mel said, reaching out to her. "You're not alone in this. Soon, we'll all be safely together, sorting out every one of those nasties that you don't like. So, fire up those crude jokes of yours 'cause I'm ready. I've got a bottle of Pepto Bismo right here." he said, snatching up a bottle he had stashed in the ambulance's glove compartment.

"You're crazy." Arnold grinned, shaking her head.

"Not yet. And I'll have you know something else, too. That d*mned tsunami isn't gonna rattle us one bit. You know why? Because it's only people stuck in trouble out there. What's so scary about them? We've got a job to do."

"Right." Rosalie sniffed, agreeing. Her tears of fear finally faded and she wiped the last of them away.

A sharp rap on their hood from an armed National Guardsman jolted Rosalie into a tighter grip on the steering wheel. He spoke. "Ambulance crew members. Shut off your ignition and grab your gear. Leave the keys. They're safe. Triage is one hundred yards to your left at nine o'clock. Mobilize!" he barked. "I'll be guiding you back with your first patient to this same vehicle."

Roy DeSoto had intentionally picked a place in Triage that had the tents in between Mayfair's assembled EMTs and the rows of stretchers full of the sick and injured being placed on the grass in the middle of the park behind the college. They had all been checked quickly for any sign of chemical contamination before being brought into the Green Zone.  
He could see that already, there were over fifty people lying there under shock sheets and military blankets. Only a few tried to leave the area before being gently guided back to the tents by a perimeter police officer.

Roy met every EMT's eyes evenly. "Has everybody checked in with the Accountability Officer?"

Nods abounded.

Okay." DeSoto said loudly. "We're gonna be the triage task force in place because we were here first." he began. "Mayfairs Two through Seven. You will be triage tagging and doing two minute primary assessments exclusively. Go with Dixie.

"Mayfairs Eight through Fourteen, you're handling ongoing secondary assessments, vital signs, splinting and backboarding on all delay tagged victims. You will document all care given onto the spaces provided on all tags. You will be staying with me.

"Mayfairs Fifteen through Twenty Four, you'll be transporting those most critical with either Johnny, Dixie, I or another fire department paramedic to one of three Level One medical facilities. En route, you will document all care received and try to determine victims' identities if possible by checking their pockets. Write everything down. Remember if it isn't documented,  
it didn't happen, and that could cause further problems down the line.

"Read any patient care notes off the triage tags the treatment group may have left you and write that down as well. A Triage officer will take the number chit from the tag as well as a physical description of your patient right before you're cleared to leave Triage. He will also write down your destination. This is to start paperwork that might help families find victims.  
You'll be on a continuous round trip from this park to the hospitals and back again. You'll be told which destination to head to with each trip by a hospital security dispatcher. Study this map and learn how to get to the three drop off points we've been assigned." he said, aiming a tent stake at a hasty marker board assembled for them at a command table. "To Kaiser South Bay and Torrance Memorial Medical Centers and also to Rampart General Hospital. Johnny will be starting you off. Follow him."

Dixie started her part of the scene briefing with her group.  
"Two through Eight. Gather around me and listen up." She led them off towards the field full of victims that the fire department station crews, police forces and civilians were starting to bring in.

Johnny took the transporting group of paired EMTs with him to check with the police I.C. for any hazards to avoid along the patient evacuation routes.

Roy gathered the treatment bunch to him to start organizing the immobilization equipment that National Guardsmen had already unloaded from their fleet of Mayfair ambulances.

McCall made sure her EMTs had hot food and water in their hands before she started her instructions. "This is what we've been assigned. Primary assessments.  
We determine A,B,C, and D. Airway, Breathing, Circulation and Bleeding. Then we tag a color to each victim according to their current physical condition. Either a red, yellow, green or black tag. Red is top priority. They will be the first to ship out. It means that any person so tagged is suffering a direct life threatening condition that will result in death if medical treatment is not provided immediately."

"Miss McCall." started up one burly EMT. "Do we have time for a lecture? People are dying out there."

She eyed him up without reacting differently. "Our Mayfair Corpsmen beat us here by military truck. Nobody in Triage is waiting to receive medical care. Now, as I was saying, A for airway. Tilt the head and lift the chin and listen for any breathing."

"But-" started up another EMT.

McCall headed him off.  
"No. We are not concerned about worsening any head or neck injuries with this large of a disaster situation. It's only life or death. There will be no resuscitative efforts this early into the incident. If a victim's not breathing after you've opened their airway, try repositioning. Once. If they're still apneic, tag them black triage and move on because they're already dying."

This bothered the shy Daisy Hoolihan. "But what if they still have a pulse?" she asked.

Dixie countered. "And what if they aren't breathing because of a set of collapsed lungs? Or because they've exsanguinated their entire blood volume into a thigh with a fractured femur that you didn't see because the skin in that area wasn't broken? During the ten minutes or so you'd spend ventilating that one unresponsive non-breather until their heart stops may mean that somewhere else, a talking, walking child with a simple laceration with arterial damage might bleed out and die because you were too busy. What then? Who had the greater chance to survive their injury?"

The EMT nodded her head, understanding.

Dixie gave her an encouraging wink. "It's always the one who's breathing. And if they're breathing you know they have an adequate pulse. Next, how fast are they breathing? If it's over 30 times a minute, they are in shock, tag them red. Plug any holes they may have to stop their major bleeding and then move on.

"For the next person, say they are breathing fine for you. Check their mental status. Can they follow simple commands? If they can't, their brain isn't getting enough oxygen and they're in an altered level state. Shock is a life threat. Tag any who fail full alertness red and control major bleeding.

"Say they know who they are, and what's happened to them. Check their blood pressure manually. If you can't feel a pulse at their wrist, their BP is falling and they are in shock, tag red and stop any massive bleeding.

"Say you find a radial pulse, but it's weak. Check the capillary refill in their fingernails. If the blood returns to pink up the nail bed in two seconds or less, tag them yellow at this point for delay treatment. They can wait after that in this condition. They aren't dying. Sweep for serious bleeding and stop it."

"But what if they have broken bones? An arm, or a lower leg?" Stan Dubois asked.

"No one with a minor broken bone has ever died right away. Especially not if they're perfusing well enough to clear blanching right down to the fingertips."  
Dixie smiled. She went on. "If refill takes longer than two seconds, it's shock, tag red and hunt for hemorrhage cause it's gonna be there somewhere.

"Now if somebody passes your A,B,C,Ds, breathing rate, mental status check, and capillary refill tests, tag them green. They are walking wounded with only minor injuries. Stick a healthy bystander with them to make sure they don't wander off. They're gonna be rattled. Also use uninjured people to control bleeding on your victims for you or to maintain open airways manually.  
It'll give them something constructive and positive to do besides panicking and it's also a good way for you to be notified if any green or yellow tags get worse and suddenly fall into a red tag priority.

"Our job as primary assessors is to do the greatest good for the greatest number.  
Leaving that non-breather with a pulse is gonna be one of the hardest things you'll ever do in your career. But other lives you can save, will be, if you just let them go.  
Don't let one almost dead victim make you cause the deaths of other saveable ones.

"Once all the red tags are completely transported out of the area, only then can we consider working resuscitations. A doctor will radio us when that can happen. The second we get another red tag, all bets are off and we go right back into strict triage mode once again. Is that clear?"

"Yes, ma'am." said all of them.

Dixie eyed them up proudly. "Keep your radios close. Contact any paramedic with questions and concerns. Ratio's gonna be one EMT per patient. Spend no more than two minutes for each victim visit. That's plenty of time to determine their color tag. You'll do fine. Okay, grab your gear and go. Move up and down the rows. Stick with your EMT partners by checking adjacent casualties."

CHiP officers Poncherello and Jon Baker found themselves in the ambulance transportation group along with Rosalie Arnold and Mel Turner.

Johnny Gage reassured them right off the bat. "You're being escorted wherever you need to go by a National Guardsman per Mayfair team. He or she can also answer questions on obtaining more fuel, and anything else you might need. It's their assigned job to be your gopher for both ambulance supplies and your food or water. Just request it. Now, let's go over triage paperwork documentation.  
It won't be much. Just basic information. Gender, approximate age, what injuries or conditions they may have, how treated, their name if possible, any past medical history. Keep it concise and neat." He looked up as the first red tag was being hustled into their direction by a pair of Corpsmen. "Okay, everybody pair up again at your own rigs. Here they come." he got on his HT. "Squad 127, Squad 51, Squad 10. They've started evaculating reds from Triage. Meet us here?"

##On our way.## replied Brice, Bellingham and the other paramedics.

Gage immediately reached for an oral airway from a gear bag. "Get the suction out.  
This woman's got pulmonary involvement!" he told his first team of EMTs. "Near drowning." He had picked Rosalie and Mel's rig to accompany.

Frank and Jon jogged to their ambulance and got it ready. They with their National Guardsman and two corpsmen, shifted a small bloody, bandaged child onto their wheeled bed. Instinct made them gentle. Ponch got out a peds oxygen mask and started using it. The corpsmen disappeared with the empty canvas stretcher back to Triage. Jon looked up and hollered. "Patient aboard! Where's a paramedic?"

"Here. I'm from Station 51. Craig Brice. What do you got?" Craig said as he climbed aboard in full turnout. Baker disappeared into the front cab to drive the Mayfair. The National Guardsman joined him in the passenger seat after he closed the rear doors and locked them.

Jon looked over at him and noted his machine gun slung over his far shoulder. "Don't tell me, you're here to encourage traffic to get out of the way."

"You got that right." rumbled the soldier. "The governor's just declared martial law."

Photo: The front of a Mayfair ambulance.

Photo: People fleeing a beach along a tsunami evaculation route.

Photo: A huge tidal wave threatening a city coastline.

Photo: Ponch and Jon accepting a triage patient on their ambulance stretcher.

Photo: A coast guard chopper searching churning waves.

Photo: Civilians walking by a Mayfair in a park.

Photo: Military corpsmen treating victims in from of a pair of paramedic attended ambulances.

**************************************************  
From:patti k () Sent:Thu 10/07/10 9:15 AM Subject: Evacuation...

Dr. Brackett met up with Joe Early and Dr. Morton at the edge of Casey's field. They fled from the trio of helicopters that had carried them to the triage area where the fire department and National Guard were setting up. All three of them had been given flight tunics and were carrying medical bags of advanced trauma intervention gear.

"Really think we're gonna do surgical procedures in all this, Kel?"  
asked Mike Morton.

"I can see mainly controlling visible bleeders in wounds, Mike. We can do a lot that way." replied Kel as they hurried over to the fire department's Incident Command table to sign in.

"Doctors Early, Morton and Brackett from Rampart General Hospital."  
said Joe to the firefighter taking attendance there.

"Glad you're here, doctors. We could really use you." the young man said with relief. There was dried blood flecked on his face that wasn't his own.

Joe noticed. "Where to first?"

"Row A, near Engine 51, northwest corner. We're saving the interior college buildings for yellow tags. Reds are prioritized now. And yes, Mayfair's here." he reported. "Twelve rigs. See that medic in white standing up just now? He's in charge of it all as Triage Officer. Know his name?" asked the firefighter.

"Yeah. We all do. That's Roy DeSoto." Kel answered.

"Thanks." replied the young man. "I'll mark him down. There hasn't been time to find out who's who yet." The firefighter sounded calm, but he was wild eyed with concentration. "If you leave Triage, turn in these I.D. cards so we know you haven't gone unaccounted for or you'll end up the subject of a search and rescue." he said, handing out three of them on lanyards. All they said was, 'M.D.'.

"Don't worry. We're not going anywhere. Let's go." Brackett said to Joe and Mike. "Time to live up to our titles."

Joe shouted as he ran towards DeSoto who was supervising a couple of EMTs through their first yellow tagged victim's secondary treatment. "Who's first?"

"Her." said Roy, pointing to a twenty year old wearing a wet college cheerleading uniform. "She was stabbed in the neck with a piece of wood. I think she was punctured near the left jugular."

"Active hemorrhaging?" Early asked.

"Not yet." DeSoto shook his head. "But she's shocky. That coratid sinus bruise has her heart rate way down."

"That probably saved her life." Joe asked, feeling for a neck pulse on the uneffected side. The girl opened her eyes briefly in non comprehension and started gasping weakly.

"Her respiratory rate's been dropping off." DeSoto said. "But she has no bruits."

"We won't lose her." Early promised, crouching by the woman's side with a pair of hemostats. He looked up and shouted to a Guardsman.  
"I need some light over here!"

Kel was next. "Give me someone fast, Roy." He ansed, eyeing up the field of completely silent red tagged victims lying in neat rows on the grass.

"Tag 344, the abdominal. He's a flight candidate. Partial evisceration."

"I got him." said Morton. "I'm faster at meatball surgery." he said to Kel.

"He's yours." Brackett said. "Clamp off that torn intestine like an umbilical cord. His circulation will bypass those injured sites and raise his BP better than a set of mast trousers. Check and seal bleeders only.  
They'll do the pretty work and sweep any bowel back at the hospital."

"Will do." said Mike. He nodded to the EMT with the man, to start cutting off the victim's clothing from his trunk and chest. Morton saw that the patient was on one of the fire department's still rare bottles of oxygen.  
"How's that doing?" he asked.

"Still half full." she replied.

"Hand it off to somebody else. You have my permission to bag him if he gets breathing suppressed." Mike told her. "If he quits, we're leaving him. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir." she said, neatly splitting the man's sweat shirt away from his main body core and the gaping, gut loop writhing hole in his abdomen.

"Where's Dixie?" asked Brackett as Roy checked his chart for the third most urgent red tag on his list.

"She's a Tag Officer on the other side of the field. Her group of EMTs are prioritizing the incoming for us." DeSoto replied.

"Best place she can possibly be." Brackett grinned in approval. "Come on, Roy. We've got to hurry."

Roy finally pointed. "That child with the orange shirt. Basilar skull fracture. Vitals are still holding but he may need a few bore holes.  
He's classic Cushing's triad but only early Cheyne-Stokes respirations."

"And his legal guardians?" Brackett asked about parental permission

"They're both dead." the EMT with the boy reported. "Firefighters told me his whole family was in a car when the wave struck. They could only reach him before it got swept away."

Brackett looked up from where he was studying the boy's pupils. "Tell those firefighters their rescue wasn't in vain. I can save this boy."

"He's not posturing?" Roy realized with discovery and relief.

"Nope. Not a single muscle." Brackett smiled. "So he doesn't have any really active epi or subdural hemorrhaging going on. Just some mild ICP which we can fix right here."

Roy straightened up with a lighter heart. "Thanks, doc. That's the first bit of good news I've had since this whole thing started."

"Anytime." Kel smiled.

DeSoto returned to the edge of the field so others could find him with their triage tag chit notes and to answer any urgent treatment questions asked by Mayfair's brand new EMTs.  
-

Ponch did a double take when he spied the front end of his ambulance.  
Some creative National Guardsmen team had rigged a motorcycle rack for their two highway patrol motors onto the front grill of the CHiP officers' Mayfair.

"Hey, they got us our bikes." Frank celebrated as they left Rampart's ER entrance.

"They did? Wow." said Baker.

The Guardsman with them, just grinned happily at their uplifted spirits. Their triaged child hadn't been an easy run to the hospital. Even Brice had been stone faced for the whole trip in.

"Yeah, let's hope we don't have to use them. I don't think we'll be able to go forty feet in some places before some piece of debris on a wet road pops out our tires." Baker replied.

All three of them quickly climbed back into the ambulance.

"Want me to drive?" Craig asked the hispanic CHiP officer.

"Nope. I got it." Frank replied. "You just keeping listening to your hand held radio. I don't want us to miss anything crucial." he said turning on the ignition.

Brice took the front passenger seat with a shrug. "Okay."

Ponch took the wheel in his leather gloves. "Hang on!" he said, taking off nimbly after putting the ambulance into gear.

Jon and the Guardsmen began to strip the bloody sheets off their bed after donning fresh pairs of gloves. They stuffed them into a black bag and chucked it out the side door window and into the hospital parking lot.

An orderly assigned to attend the ambulance entrance retrieved it into a wheeled linen bin before the next light flashing ambulance pulled up.

This new Mayfair was Johnny Gage's.

"Mel." said Gage quickly. "She's vomiting again." he said of their near drowning patient inside of the caretaker cab.

Mel helped Johnny tip over the woman's long board so Gage could suction out her mouth with a Yankauer flange. A lot of brown water gushed into the capture container.

Rosalie quickly got out of the driver's seat. A few seconds later, she and their National Guardsman had both rear doors open to retrieve the woman's stretcher. "Johnny, how's she doing?"

"Barely breathing but she's not aspirating any more." he told Arnold.  
"That was the last of it. Her leg wound's nothing. Mel and I clamped it off." He said as they kept the boarded woman propped up onto her left side using straps and extra pillows. Gage reinserted the woman's oral airway over her tongue and between her teeth after tapping some water out of it onto the sheets.

Sharon Walters met them at a junction in the main hallway. "Treatment rooms are full. Park her in front of the nurses' station. Somebody'll get on her head to monitor her breathing until one opens up."

Gage nodded and the four of them hurried the woman's stretcher on past her.

"I hate the ocean." Sharon chanted. "I hate the ocean. I hate the ocean.  
Okay. Instant therapy over. Next!" she hollered out to the next team of ambulance crew to disembark.

Gage, Rosalie, Mel and the National Guardsman jogged rapidly back into the direction of their parked Mayfair. On their way, they saw the first images of the tidal wave coming from a news chopper on the TV showing through the open Nurse's Lounge door.

It was like a scene from H*ll.

"I don't think I like the idea of instant beach front property..." Rosalie grumbled.

"I promise to never take us to the shore on a date." Johnny vowed.  
"Man, it looks really bad out there."

"It is." said the National Guardsman. "We can't reach a lot of places."

Soon, they were headed back to Casey's Field for another red tag triaged patient transport.

"Let's pick up two patients at a time for the rest of our runs. I'd say we're well broken in, don't you?" asked Mel.

"I was thinking exactly the same thing." Gage said.

The others agreed by making more room available on the Mayfair by stacking their extra supplies into towers with bungee cords.

Rosalie picked up her HT band radio. "Mayfair Three to base. En route from Rampart. Our E.T.A. is five minutes."

##Mayfair three. Your evacuation route is still safe and dry at this time.  
Report to Row A, northwest corner. See doctors there for a pickup and rendevous.## replied a police dispatcher from a Communications Table in the park.

"10-4." replied Arnold.

The guardsmen next to her cocked his gun visibly in a warning as they suddenly encountered a crowd of panicking, uninjured evacuees on the boulevard who tried to rush the ambulance by pounding on its sides.

"Help us! We know where hurt people are!" one woman cried.

"Away from the ambulance!" he ordered through the closed windows.

"Please! They're dying!" she sobbed.

"Ma'am, assigned rescue teams are sweeping your neighborhood! Keep walking! You're almost there!" he encouraged to keep them consciously heading for the hospital on foot. "We can't stop for any of you." he said tapping the window with the muzzle of his machine gun.

The sopping and filthy business woman backed away hastily.

Photo: Rampart's ambulance entrance, but crowded.

Photo: Ponch running in a patient with two EMTs.

Photo: Rampart's hallway, hustling with multiple patients.

Photo: Roy and EMTs treating a patient on a roadway.

Photo: Brackett in a blue flight suit working in triage.

Photo: A girl on an ambulance stretcher.

Photo: A far view of a triaged disaster scene on grass.

Photo: A tidal wave with multiple swimmers trapped in it.

***************************************************  
From:patti k () Sent:Sat 10/09/10 10:04 AM Subject: Snatch and Run..

Station 51's engine crew had already learned the value of armed escort. Chet had been attacked by a head injured man at their very first search and rescue scene at a damaged Super Eight just off the beach. They were still flinching at both the sounds of the receding tidal wave and the frantic buzz of a distant disaster crazed crowd. The smells of gas, smoke and sea salt lay heavy in the air.

"You sure you're okay?" Cap asked Chet again as Marco rechecked the dressing on Kelly's forehead.

"Yeah. I'm fine. It's just a nick." Kelly said, pointing to the painful spot on his head.

"It doesn't even need stitches." Lopez said, pushing more tape over a sweat dampened loose piece.

Chet helped him, sighing with impatience.

"If you think he needs a corpsman, let me know." said their lieutenant National Guardsman who had responded to their radio message about a riot around the fire engine. "And I'll get one priority. We've been ordered to treat firefighters first."

Chet got mad, throwing angry eyes at the man's machine gun. "Well, that's not gonna wash one second with me. Civilians are gonna be cared for before us, no matter what! Even if I fall flat onto my face!"

The Guardsman squared his jaw in mild discomforture and looked away.

"Easy, pal." Cap grinned. "He knows that. Somewhere." he said with a sidelong glance. "If you're in top shape, get your helmet back on and go in with Marco on a life line. Go to Side B second floor and start a victim search." said Hank. "The first floor's had it so go in through a window." he ordered, "I'll chain the ladder to a tree so it doesn't grow legs while we're in there. Stoker, lock up the Ward. Tight.  
There's no fire here."

"I'll stand by your entry point." offered the Guardsman.

"Thanks." Cap nodded. "Guys, move." he said, patting his men on their shoulders. "Keep your air bottles on. We don't know whether or not the utilities inside have been turned off. If you find any meters or fuse boxes..."

"Right, Cap." Kelly said, shoving his helmet back onto his head. He snugged up his chin strap around his facemask. "Shut em down."

Mike Stoker was assigned as Safety for the engine herself. He began removing fresh debris in the muddy road from around her tires as a brown skin of dirt laden ocean water continued to ebb away around them. A hydrologist hovering in a news chopper above the neighborhood was broadcasting updates.

##Rescue people in the area! All roads east of Mesa are dry and undamaged.  
A second, larger tidal wave is due to hit in twenty five minutes. Evacuate as far back as Pacific when you retreat.##

Other choppers were searching for victims and instructing trapped tidal wave victims to reach the roof on any buildings taller than five stories for a rescue pick up.

The sound of crunching glass whipped Hank's head around. It was another fire engine, Station Ten.

Captain Stone stepped out of the cab and activated his radio. "Battalion One.  
Engine Ten. We've arrived to Station 51's assignment. We will assist with their building search. We've four on board."

##Engine Ten. Copy that. Total of four.## replied the busy chief over HT.

Chet saw that a covered truck from the National Guard had accompanied them and four new soldiers leaped out of the back.

"Ben?" Cap asked, surprised.

"I pulled a few strings." Stone explained. "I told IC what we're dealing with out here with looters and green tags and he okayed the idea of larger fire department responses to incidents. What do you got?"

Hank pointed. "This was a Super Eight Motel before the top floors collapsed into the sub basement parking ramp. The YMCA to the back is intact and has been fully evacuated. I've got two of my men who've gone in right there on the second floor. It's still dry. They're covering side B. We don't know about the utilities yet."

"I can stay here and supervise. Take your last man and do whatever you need to do inside? I'll send in two of mine to follow through on Side C's quarter."  
Ben suggested.

"Sounds like a plan. First floor's too damaged to attempt without Urban Search and Rescue. It'll take a Navy Seal to reach below ground level into any air pockets. The subterranean ramp's still under water. The rest of the building is stable. Only the floor fell. As far as I can tell, the walls and the rest haven't been settling. All the windows and doors are still working. Nothing's jammed up."  
Stanley reported.

"Are the managers sure there are still people left inside?" Captain Stone asked.

"Yes. The hotel staff did a head count of those who got out through the exits.  
They continue to say there are a dozen folks missing from their checked in log book. These are the rooms they're supposedly in." he said, scribbling down the room numbers. Cap shared more. "But I've told my men to search all of them. That list didn't include any on-duty staff who are still unaccounted for."

"Okay. Cover Side A? Our men can all meet and split up Side D's search pattern afterwards. I'll have my engineer take over our engines' safety detail. I've already got the Guard getting our extra air bottles laid out in between the engines."

Hank nodded again and motioned for Stoker to join him in attaching a pair of life lines to their belts. Then they went in after Marco and Kelly quickly, wearing full scba.

The darkness inside the hotel, and inside the hallway into which they had entered,  
was absolute. Hank Stanley and Mike Stoker immediately set their gloves on the wall and turned left to begin a search by physically tracing and feeling around the contours of room perimeters. They decided to triangulate to any heard victim-made noises by requesting one of the other teams if it was needed. Cap lifted his HT and spoke loudly to be distinct through his faceplate. "Engine 51 to HT 51. Station Ten's got our backs covering our search area. Watch for them!"

##10-4, Cap.## Chet radioed back, his voice equally muffled by his air mask.

Mike pulled a gas sniffer out of a turnout pocket and took a reading while Cap shouted out loud. "Fire Department! If anybody can hear me, come to the sound of my voice! We're evacuating the hotel!" Hank looked at him. "Anything?" he asked, glancing at the meter in Stoker's glove.

"300 ppm. There's definitely indicator in the air."

"That could be from a few soaked out water heater pilot lights." Cap guessed. Hank was about to gesture splitting up in opposite directions around the first hotel room when a word in white outside in the hallway became illuminated by his questing flashlight. "Stoker! It's the mechanical room!"

They backtracked and eagerly tested the maintenance room's steel door.  
It was locked. Together, they popped it open using their jacket halligans wedged into the side jam opposite the hinges and forced it free in a joint effort.

Mike quickly brought his torch to bear. "This is the main one." he said, studying the array of complicated control panels, valve assemblies, and fuse boxes labelled along the wall.

"This is the only one." Cap clarified, tapping a diagram glued onto the back of the door with a gloved set of knuckles. "Look here."

Mike did. "Just five floors and no penthouse. Got it."

Swiftly, they shut off the power, gas, and the main water lines to the whole building, panel by panel. Then they watched as a secondary generator kicked in by battery that was designed to keep the fire alarm system functional in the event of a power outage. They knew any water needed would flow from the filled roof water tanks then down and out any ceiling showerheads, using gravity.

Stoker updated their I.C. who had their frequency up on the live channel. "HT 51 to Battalion One. The damage at our location is all subterranean. The lower garage is totally submerged and only the ground floor is gone. All exterior walls are intact and uneffected. The utilities are off.  
The hotel staff confirms twelve missing as still being somewhere inside the building."

##10- 4, HT 51. Sending in USAR-1 to your incident. Is there any nearby fire in other buildings that might later jeopardize your operations?##

"Negative, Chief." replied Cap. "Our block's just wet. The sea surge's less than half an inch here on Canal Street."

##Mind your time, Captain Stanley.## said Battalion. ##Pull out all resources with a very good head start long before that second tidal wave's warning is issued.##

"Understood." Hank replied. "Engine 51, out." Then he looked at Mike where they stood surrounded by blackness in the damp hallway. He sucked in a deep breath from his air bottle. "What do we got for gas, Mike? Is it going down yet?"

"It's down to breathable levels. 10 ppm."

"Good enough for me." said Cap, pulling off his mask quickly to begin shouting for trapped victims again. Mike and Hank returned to the first room they had left and searched it quickly, opening closets, the shower curtain and the joined door access space. The room was empty.

Cap grabbed the fluorescent grease pencil from where it hung around his jacket sleeve and marked down the time, who they were by call sign,  
the lack of victims by number and the fact they had turned off the gas in one simply drawn figure symbol X mark.

Then they started the pattern of searching, and marking beside the door,  
all over again for the next room.

"Luggage in here!" said Stoker, kicking its stand out of the way with a boot.

Cap began shouting and together they found a man hiding in the bathroom.  
He looked about twenty. "Hey! Didn't you hear me?" Hank asked him.

"Oh, my G*d." said the sleep rumpled man. "It's really happening."

Hank grabbed him by the arm. "Go on, Mister. Get out of the building! It's not safe. Grab a hold of this rope and follow it outside."

"Uh, what's going on? I - I felt a jolt and-"

Stoker interrupted. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

"Ah, no...?"

"Then follow me." Stoker told him. "We've got to get you out before the next wave hits."

"Wave as in earthquake? I thought all that water noise outside was just a rain storm. I - I had the curtains closed." the man said numbly.

"No. It's a tidal wave." Mike told him, looking him over for signs of injury to explain his dull reactions. "Cap, he's fine." he concluded.

Hank barked. "Get going! Move! We're coming with you." he told the man with an encouraging shove. "Take nothing with you except your I.D." he ordered.

"But..."

"Now!"

On the east wing of the hotel, Chet and Marco found six people passed out from gas exposure in a stairwell. They had been trying to reach their underground parked cars when the rushing water and building gas layer from the collapsed section of the ground floor's pipes had stopped them.

Kelly got on his radio eagerly. "HT 51 to Engine 51. We've found six down in the B/C stairway in a gas pocket!" he hissed through his scba gear.

##We'll be right there, pal, in less than three minutes.## Cap radioed back. ##We found a green tag and had to walk him out to the Guard truck.##

"10-4." Lopez replied. "We'll let you know their statuses when you get here."  
Marco said, peeling off a glove as he opened an elderly woman's airway. His bare hand felt some chest rise. "She's alive." he shared, rolling her over into a recovery position.

"So is this man in the jeans." Chet replied, doing the same thing with his victim. "How far up do we gotta go to get out of all this gas?" he asked,  
checking the time on his air regulator.

"Ground level. The sniffer detected nothing up there." Lopez replied.

"Let's get these two out first and dump them where Stoker and Cap'll find them." Kelly decided.

"Then go back for the rest." Lopez agreed, hefting up the slight woman over his shoulder until she nestled into the space between his air bottle and his back. He stood and started back up the stairway, following along their ropes.

Marco had just positioned her so she was breathing secured in the hallway when Cap showed up.

"Mike's right behind me. He thought he heard something." Hank said,  
gesturing.  
"The other five are in the same area." Lopez puffed into his air mask,  
as he checked once again on the old lady's breathing by feel. Then he stood up.

"Are they still alive down there?" Hank asked, testing his mask for patency as he put it back on.

"One is. Don't know yet about the others." Marco said, reopening the stairwell door.

Hank made a decision. "Let's get the rest up here and out of danger before we evacuate this pair."

Lopez gave him a short wave and headed down. Cap followed him.

They nimbly snugged up against the wall when Kelly lugged up stairs past them bearing his male victim. "He's stable!" Chet sucked through his mask, climbing fast.

Marco and Cap descended back to the gas filled basement landing near the surging water just under the garage's roof. Chet had left his flashlight angled on the floor to illuminate the other bodies still lying in the stairwell. One had clearly fallen to the bottom and was injured. Blood dripped from his face. Cap found breathing on him but not on a young mother nor her kindergarten aged child. He left them be. A nearby senior aged male proved to be just as dead.

Chet soon thundered back down the stairs, five at a time,  
and he quickly crouched down by the still writhing guy.

When Kelly touched the fallen man, he cried out with a moan. It was followed by a pitifully weak squall from an infant encircled inside the man's protective arms where he lay sprawled, face down. He lifted his head, coughing badly. "She's ...my daughter..  
*cough* Get ...her out!"

"I will. Right now." Chet promised. "More firefighters are coming."  
he said, quickly checking and finding a broken leg on him. "This is going to hurt. I've got to move you." he said, shifting the man until he turned upright from his stomach into a seated position. "We've got to get out fast. The gas is at fatal levels down here." Kelly slung the man's arm over his shoulder after carefully tucking the twitching baby inside of his fire jacket. "Help me hold onto her." he shouted to the father to be heard over the sound of the rushing sea water just below them. "I'll be tying your bad leg up with this ace wrap."

"What about.. the others?" the man gasped, keeping one hand on his infant daughter's sweaty head and the other on his lower leg break as Chet swiftly bound it up parallel with his good one.

Chet looked over into the darkness where the dead lay.  
"You first. You're awake." he said truthfully.

Kelly started up painfully, bodily lifting the man's bad foot off the ground with each stair, and ran into a masked Stoker coming down. "Take the kid! Take the kid!" Chet yelled through this faceplate. Mike began to go farther down the steps when Kelly grabbed his arm. "Not there. It's a baby. She's inside my coat. She can't be older than three months."

"She's a seventh?" Stoker asked about their total victim number.

"Yeah." Kelly said, readjusting the father's arm over his neck, who was beginning to sag heavily, no longer feeling his splinted fracture. "This guy can't walk. I've got to shift around to carry him."

Mike quickly glanced downward to where Cap was untangling their ropes from a railing as he took the almost totally limp infant from Chet. He tried to make out the other three victims.

"Don't bother." Kelly told him silently, mouthing the words, shaking his head around his mask. "It's over for them."

Stoker snatched off his air mask as soon as the stairway door shut behind him and offered it up to the quietly gasping baby in his arms. "Come on. That's it." he encouraged her as she began to cough more and more often in the fresher air.

Chet, Cap and Marco followed him up, supporting the weakly choking, leg fractured man.

Station Ten's firefighters had heard Chet's earlier radio transmission and had come to assist their emergency rescue. Already, they were picking up the first two victims in the hallway from off the floor. Stoker held up three fingers and made a cut throat gesture at them, jerking his thumb toward the stairway.

They nodded and hurried off with their burdens shouldered. Hank left a completed search mark with their call sign, the time of day and the results of the three dead inside of seven total found.

Outside, Captain Stone and the Guardsmen had tarps and oxygen tanks laid out and waiting. Mike left the infant by her father's side while the military men oxygenated everybody. He got on his radio. "HT 51 to I.C. We have two adult males, and two females: an adult, and an infant rescued at our location. All victims of gas exposure with one escape trauma. Requesting transportation to Triage."

Ben relaxed when he saw that two of the National Guardsmen were at the medical corpsman level. He realized that he hadn't noticed their pins before. ::That frees us up from doing any further first aid.:: he sighed mentally.

Hank waved an acknowledgement in his direction as he donned a fresh air bottle to go back on search inside the hotel with the other teams. Mike Stoker was helping him strap in.

Ben frowned at the note in his hand that Stoker had handed to him mentioning the three fatalities in the B/C corner stairwell.  
::That's eight of twelve non-staff victims located... Now where in the blazes are the other four?:: he wondered. Stone studied the layout of the building that the hotel management had provided with the unaccounted for rooms circled with all the missing names.

He looked at his watch. Fifteen minutes were remaining until the next promised ocean surge. Then he became worried very, very fast, suddenly realizing that most of the victims found so far had not been inside of their hotel rooms.

Photo: A flooded supermarket.

Photo: Captain Stanley looking up on HT.

Photo: Captain Ben Stone in a close up.

Photo: Firefighters searching a room in scba.

Photo: Cap and others in airbottles outside of a hotel.

Photo: A woman tending a man fallen at the base of a staircase.

Photo: A woman holding oxygen to a baby.

Photo: Corpsmen rescuing a victim from a flood.

From:patti k () Sent:Sat 10/09/10 4:46 PM Subject: Second Wave..

Ben Stone stapled a green triage tag onto the sleeve of the man Cap and Stoker had walked out from Side A. The man still looked shell shocked. But this time, he was gaping more at all the machine guns than at the sight of the Pacific Ocean rolling down Canal street back towards the sea. "Are you sure you're not injured?" the fire captain asked him.

The man jabbered. "I'm...not. Maybe inside of my head if you know what I mean. This is a lot to take in!" he screamed. "I almost died in there and I didn't even know it!"

"Do me a favor, sir." Captain Stone requested.

"What?" the man screeched. He was in a sort of quiet panic that showed in his voice but not on his face.

"Take this oxygen mask." Ben told him. "And hold it near this baby's face. Her father can't do it any more and I need this soldier for something." he said pointing to the Guardsman who was caring for the infant.

The change in the hotel customer's demeanor was miraculous.

"Uh, all right.. Is she bleeding? I hate blood." he said evenly.

"No, she's not. We just need to keep her wide awake until a military truck or fire engine arrives to take all of these people to Triage. Including you."

"But I'm not hurt, sir." The man blinked.

"I know. It's for your own protection. There are crazy people out here. Looters and probably those who've already snapped from the stress." Ben said, snapping his fingers.

The nervous man flinched at the noise. "Allright. I'mfine. She'sfine.  
I'll do it,...sir." he sputtered quickly. "Just...just give me the mask." he said, holding out a trembling hand. Moments later, the feel of the infant grabbing onto his fingers made the emotionally rocked man relax and refocus into a better sanity.

Ben smiled and added a no nonsense order. "If she stops breathing, do what you can, okay? We can't. It's our orders."

"I..I will. I...know CPR. I have a baby sister back at home about her age."  
he grinned wanly.

"Oh, yeah?" Stone asked. "Where's home? Got an I.D. on you? We can call your relatives so they won't worry about you once we get to Triage."

"Yeah, it's right here." said the man calmly, handing Stone his wallet.  
"Uh, is there anything else I can do for you, captain? I want to help."

"Sure. Keep an eye on her father's splint job. Make sure the circulation to either foot doesn't cut off. If it does, loosen that bandaging." Ben told him.

"Okay." the man nodded as he watched Stone mark down his personal information from his driver's license onto his green triage tag.

Then Ben felt a tap on his shoulder from the soldier who had been caring for the baby. "What do you need me for? This guy? Will he be cracking up on us?"

Stone stared at him.  
"This guy is fine. He just needed something constructive to do. I need you...to scope out that." Stone said, pointing down half a block. A large looter mob was gathering out front near a department store. They could see pieces of lumber, crow bars and axes in their hands and the idea of rescuing others who might still be trapped, was clearly not in their minds.

The lieutenant Guardsman handed off the baby to the hotel man, rose to his feet, and whistled piercingly to get the attention of his other men. They all stood menacingly, forming an unconscious blockade in the water flowing street while one of the corpsmen hovered protectively over the gas victims with a machine gun.

Instantly, the lieutenant fired a gun into a tree in warning and the concussion startled the looters into active fleeing, back the way they had come. The military sharp shooter eyed up Stone. "Nobody's gonna hurt us or our patients!" he snarled.

Ben Stone suddenly felt better a whole nine yards.

Chet Kelly was muttering inside of his air mask while he and Lopez finally got to the fifth and final floor of their Side B search assignment.  
"Where would I go if I was a simple businessman and saw a twenty foot wave bearing down on me through my hotel room window?" he asked himself.

Lopez kicked down another hotel door. "Did you say something?"

"Yeah. I was just thinking. This place is near the airport. People who travel a lot come to this hotel, right? If they travel a lot by plane, that means they have good paying jobs. So, they aren't stupid. Well, most of them. Those people we pulled out of the stairwell were probably tourists. Marco, I think we've been seriously barking up the wrong tree for this trip in."

"Think we should skip all this and check the roof?" Lopez nodded,  
agreeing with Kelly's line of reasoning.

"Yes I do. If we're wrong we can always come back down to finish this up. It's safe enough. Natural gas doesn't rise."

"Yeah, and that second wave's gonna be here any minute now."  
Marco remarked unhappily.

"In eleven minutes nine seconds exactly. I hit my timer when I heard that chopper announcing when." Chet said. "Brice has been rubbing off on me."

"Let's go." Marco urged.

And there they were. The last four. Huddled like chickens against a firm air duct spinner as far away from the roof's edges as they could get. They didn't look happy to see the fire department.

"Who's shooting at us?" one of them asked as Marco and Chet propped open the stairway door leading to the roof top.

"Other people. It's a surprise luau. Got a beach ball?" he said sarcastically.  
"Be very glad to see us. Because there's no way down again." He lifted his radio while Lopez questioned the four adults to see if any had been harmed by the tidal wave effects. "HT 51 to all Motel Super Eight teams. The last four are safe on the roof. HT 51 to any available chopper. Can you pick up victims from our roof?"

##HT 51, This is News Five. We see you. We're coming in for a landing.##

Marco looked up in surprise. "How'd they get our HT channel frequency?"

"Don't knock it, they're saving us some work." Kelly grinned. He looked at the wind whipped hotel guests again who were converging around them.  
"Notice any hotel staff still running around down there before you came up here?"

"Yeah, they all went down, and not up." said one businessman. "I told them not to go into the garage level with all that water coming down the street. They're probably dead."

"How many?" Kelly asked.

"Three or four total. Front desk people. Oh, and a janitor." said another man.

Marco nodded and radioed out the update. "HT 51 to Engine 10. Our roof victims say four staff ran into the basement level when the wave hit, trying to get out." he sighed.

##10-4.## replied Captain Stone. ##Then that's where I'll send USAR-1 and their dive teams. There's plenty of air pockets down there in the outer corners of the ramp. Remember seeing those heat breaking girders angling up?##

"Yeah." said Kelly. "Like a row of hollow pyramids." said over the radio, remembering stairwell B/C.

##That's where these currents will wash them if they were swimming for it.##  
Stone said.

Near Ben, on the street, a hotel manager was getting into a military evacuation truck. He shouted down an idea to Stone. "The security camera tapes could show you exactly how many people there are, who and when. The main control deck's in the front office." he offered.

"Not without any power they can't." Ben shrugged apologetically. "We'll do this the hard way, with infrared seeking cameras once the second wave's gone by.  
Get yourself someplace safe, mister. That's what we're doing next."

"G*dspeed, sir. And thank you." said the manager.

Stone lifted an appreciative glove.

##That's the last of em!## Kelly reported through the HT channel.

Ben looked up and saw the news chopper fall away into the sky with a signalling waggle to tell him about their successful pick up assist. "Yeah.." Stone mumbled to himself. "And you got the rescue story of the century doing it, too." he chuckled.

A civil defense siren, inland, began to sound. Ben turned his radio to emergency broad band, covering police, fire, EMS and military main frequencies. ##Second wave in five minutes. Everybody abandon all hot zones. I repeat,  
abandon all hot zones.##

He began running to help Cap and Stoker out through the windows."Leave the ropes! They're cheap enough."

"I'm not worried about those. I'm worried about-" Stanley gruffed.

##Don't worry about us, Cap.## came Chet's voice over Hank's handy talkie.  
##We're hitching a ride outta here.## he said.

Stanley looked up to see a nimble National Guard helicopter plucking his two remaining firefighters safely off of the hotel roof. Hank grinned hugely.  
Ben, Hank and Mike Stoker separated for their trucks.  
"Stoker, you heard the man. Let's get Engine 51 to high ground, lickety split." He snatched up a last empty air bottle set and tossed it up into the hose bed. "Ben, you and yours all in?" Hank asked over his handy talkie.

##Yep. We're set. Let's go.##

Stoker climbed into the Ward's cab and got her into gear as Cap joined him in the passenger's seat. The military lieutenant leaped onto the back of their engine and he belted himself in securely as a protective rear guard using a rescue sling.

In a convoy, the two fire department companies, the evacuation trucks and the National Guard's jeep all fled the harbor neighborhood. Behind them, a boiling wall of blue water rose up higher than the palm trees lining the boulevard on the beaches. "Holy mother of-" said Hank as they got safely back to the high hill on Pacific and Mesa Drive.

The violent noise of destruction far below in the Torrance harbor basin drowned out his sudden explicative at the unbelievable sight.

Stoker instantly parked the LaFrance to face the ocean.

The two Station 51 crew members watched in horror as the Vincent Thomas Toll Bridge in the bay below them entirely disintegrated beneath the fury of the newly arrived tidal wave.

"Wasn't that bridge along Mayfair's current guaranteed safe evacuation route?" Mike Stoker whispered in high fright.

Cap could only nod a mute.. yes.

Photo: A National Guardsman talking.

Photo: Captain Stanley and Captain Stone going over blueprints.

Photo: Chet and Marco wearing helmets.

Photo: National Guardsmen assisting a panicing woman.

Photo: Engine 51 fleeing behind Squad 51 to high ground.

Photo: A bridge breaking due to high water.

Photo: Captain Stanley looking upset at a disaster.

Photo: A flooded neighborhood at sunset from a military chopper.

**************************************************  
Subject: Coalescence From:patti k () Sent:Tue 10/12/10 1:50 PM

Dixie McCall was leaning over and checking a tourniqueting dressing on a red tagged patient in Triage when the sudden sound of tires on gravel captured her attention. It was an L.A. City police car pulling up quickly at the edges of the field. Surprised, Dixie glanced down at her radio and found that it was still on at the proper channel with the police dispatcher's office. A familiar rugged police officer started jogging into her direction, still wearing his white helmet. And his radio's channel was going crazy.

"Vince?" she asked, straightening up.

"Miss McCall. I need to talk to you immediately." he said, unconsciously glancing at the other Mayfair personnel assigned with Dixie with obvious mild discomforture. That alarmed even the nurse in Dixie.

Dixie nodded at a Mayfair EMT to take her place over the hemorrhaging site and left with him until they were out of patient earshot. "What's happened? Why have you come to see me?"

"There's been a second tidal wave. And this one was far bigger in size than all previous estimates forecasted by the USGS in calculation models.  
Ma'am, I'm afraid the news isn't good. The Vincent Thomas Toll Bridge has collapsed. And according to witnesses, they've reported that they saw several emergency and military vehicles crossing over it at the time the water struck. Some of these were consistently identified as having been ambulances." he said reluctantly. "Ours, to be exact."

"Oh.." she gasped. A sick, hot stab of bile rose in Dixie's throat. She lifted her manager's command radio set to the Mayfair Ambulance fleet quickly.  
"Mayfair One Command to all units. Check in by radio call sign. I repeat, check in by radio call sign, A.S.A.P." She jogged to a nearby table and snatched up the accountability chart with Mayfair's personnel check list and a pen.

Silence reigned...and static. But then the EMTs calling in their numbers began to come in over the speakers, overlapping, confused.

"They're all walking on each other." Vince said.

McCall cursed. "I hate monophasic channels!" Then her expression changed. "Help me mark down the numbers." she said calmly, urgent.

Vincent got out his pad and listened carefully to the turned up radio as the EMTs surrounding the disaster area spoke in response to Dixie.  
"This is Mayfair Fifteen." "...*spap* ..Nineteen." "Twenty One."

The jumbled replies went on and Vince and Dixie struggled to make out their words legibly from cut off and intruding transmissions.

Dixie finally saw a gaping hole not being verbalized. "Break, break,  
break. All Mayfair units radio silence. Break break break. Clear for emergency traffic." McCall transmitted.

The voices died away.

Dixie swallowed and began hailing. "Mayfair Command to Mayfair Three. Do you copy?" she asked. Then she looked at Vince. "Who's got it?"

Howard studied Dixie's chart, going over the callsigns check off again.  
He read off the information recorded. "Mayfair Three. Turner, Arnold...and Gage."

::Not them. Please. Not them.:: she begged mentally. "Okay." Dixie said softly, stressed. She toggled the talk button again. "Mayfair Command to Mayfair Three. Respond your status. Over."

There was more static.

"They're not answering." McCall said, shaking her head.

Howard noticed another gap. "There's another absent. Mayfair Eighteen. We haven't checked it off yet." he said, showing her its empty place on the chart and in his notes.

Dixie took a deep breath and hailed the new call sign, trying quickly to reach her ambulance people. "Mayfair Command to Mayfair Eighteen. Do you read on this channel?"

There was no reply. Not even open air.

"Who's on that one?" McCall asked, thinking fast.

"Uh...Poncherello, Baker... and..Brice."

Dixie closed her eyes briefly in a new shock. "Okay. I guess we can solidly confirm there's trouble." she lifted her radio once more. "Mayfair Command to all Mayfairs, keep following your military escorts. There are evacuation route changes. Your safety comes first. Keep on your radioes for further condition updates from me or the police dispatcher. Mayfair Command out." She clicked off. And sagged against the table. "Oh my G*d." she sighed, looking at Vince in horror. "Do you think they had any chance of surviving that bridge falling?"

"Only one way to find out. Declare a missing personnel alert about them to the Fire Department I.C. Let him handle it. He's the best solution we've got to finding out that answer." Howard told her.

Dixie switched channels, hitting her emergency signal toggle. Slowly the main fire channel silenced to allow her transmission through as a priority. "Mayfair Command to I.C. on Main. Emergency."

##This is Battalion One I.C. Mayfair Command, go ahead.## said the Chief of the whole Los Angeles County disaster operation.

"Battalion One. Police eyewitness has just reported that EMS personnel were on on the Vincent Thomas Toll Bridge when it was washed away. I've confirmed six of my people as not responding on ambulance radio frequencies. Their signals are...unaccounted for." she said evenly.

##How many units?##

"Two." Dixie replied.

Vince switched over to Main and added more information. "They are Mayfair Modular type cabs. Single axle." Howard told the chief. "And there is one National Guardsman assigned as a ride-along per rig."

##10-4. Eight first responders missing at the Vincent Thomas Toll Bridge. I.C. out.##

Dixie startled when the chief's transmission cut off into dead air. "Uh. Thanks, Vince.  
I guess I'd... better get back to work." she smiled without meaning it.

"I'll let you know what I find out!" Howard promised her, running back for his squad car.

Feeling very small, McCall's eyes cast unbidden towards the familar outline of Engine 51, parked on a knoll above them. ::I should tell Hank.:: she decided. Whistling,  
she called over a National Guardsman to deliver a message. Quickly she scribbled down Brice and Johnny's names on a piece of paper and the callsigns of their missing ambulances and where they had last been seen. ::Maybe he can do something faster.:: "Take this to that fire engine on the hill up there." she told him. "Take it to a man called Captain Stanley. He's with the fire department."

The gopher nodded crisply at her. Then he took her note and eyeballed an ATV that was being guarded by an M.P. "I'll get this to Engine 51, Ma'am. As fast as possible."  
he promised. "I don't need to use the roads to make it up there."

Dixie suppressed a single, powerful sob, and stifled it. She nodded her thanks.  
He started to run, but not faster than Dixie's unbidden tears. She wiped them away with a deep breath before anyone else could see her reaction.

Then she went to find Roy DeSoto, who was still working Triage somewhere in Casey's Field with her.

-  
Photo: Dixie looking worried.

Photo: Vince in closeup.

Photo: A bridge collapsed with EMS on the hill behind.

Photo: Swiftwater washing away a road.

Photo: An incident commander in bright colors receiving a radio transmission.

**************************************************  
From:patti k () Sent:Wed 10/13/10 12:02 PM Subject: Splintered..

"I'm sorry, Roy." said Dixie McCall. "I wish I had given you happy news with that coffee." she whispered. She grasped his upper arm in support when DeSoto's hand, holding the cup, started to shake.

"Thanks for that update. You were right about me wanting to keep current on issues, no matter what kind they are." he swallowed dryly.

Dr. Brackett was also in the rest and recuperation tent, taking a short break to exchange his blood flecked jumpsuit for a clean one. "Tough break." Kel said, his mouth twitching in sympathy. "But I'm sure the fire department will pull out all the stops to try and find them both."

"That's if someone is assigned to it." DeSoto said simply.  
"That whole bay out there is under the jurisdiction of the Port Authority."

Roy got up restlessly to look outside their shelter and towards the ocean.

Dixie frowned. "But isn't the bridge and the road that was on it, the DOT's territory? They are the ones who mandate paramedic licensing." she pointed out.

"We'll see what the Chief decides." DeSoto told them. "Quite honestly, I can't see him pulling away critical resources on a maybe that big."

"On a maybe?" Kel asked.

"Yeah." Roy sighed. "I- I checked the channels on some other rescue bands after the second wave hit. It seems there's been structural damage to the beach harbor repeater tower near the bridge site."

McCall sagged in relief. "Then it may be that they just can't get through because they're in a communications black out area."

"That's what I'm hoping." Still not comforted, Roy watched the fire department helicopters swiftly assessing the half mile long distance over the water out in the bay. His eye kept getting drawn back to the horrifying gap in the skyline where the graceful tow bridge's light green span used to be. All he could see was churning brown water.

Their violent vertical plummet suddenly stopped with a lurch and sideways jolt as the Mayfair landed once more on top of its tires on slanted pavement. The National Guardsman and Jon Baker had managed to draw up their knees high enough to squat on their feet to absorb the shock of the impact. They watched as the entire length of the bridge, except their own island of concrete, slid underwater.

"AhhhHH!" Ponch screamed in the back as he was thrown over the empty patient cot and into the side door's well. His boot punched through the window as the ambulance rolled onto its side and he felt sudden, icy seawater on his extruded leg.

"Poncherello!" yelled Craig Brice. He had been belted onto the rider bench and was fine. He reached out a fast hand and offered Frank leverage to free his foot from the hole where the glass had been. "Are you all right?"

Frank scrambled onto the bench back next to Craig.  
"I'm not hurt! D*mn! Where did that come from? We were forty feet up on the bridge's roadway!" he shouted in anger and fright.

"We're still on it." said Brice. "What's left of it."

Jon Baker and the Guardsman had time to look through the peek window at the others before the motion began again. "Oh, no..." Baker tensed. "Not again! Ponch, look out!"

The Hispanic CHiP officer curled up into a protective ball on the wall that was now the floor as medical supplies and equipment rained down onto him from spilled cabinets and cubby holes. There was another tremendous rush of water. The tipped ambulance rocked, began to float, then resettled.  
Then the water was gone along with the noise, and bright daylight returned to fill the broken windows.

"Everybody out! We don't want to get swept away in here!" said the Guardsman.

Obeying, Brice flung the lower back door open to make an escape.  
Thinking ahead, he grabbed the medical bags and threw them outside onto the wet rubble. Then he looped his radio's strap over his wrist.

All four of them tumbled out into the open, helping each other.  
They were dry, but on an island of pulverized roadway that was folded like taffy into ribbons above and below them. Stuck into the mud like bent straws, lay the twisted steel remains of the bridge's green suspension beams. And there were mililtary cars being tumbled about in the tsunami's currents. Four of them.

Brice stood on solid footing, stunned and shaky, slowly realizing that every colored speck of a vehicle caught in the rolling tidal wave they could see making landfall was actually full of the freshly dead. Those who had been drivers and their passengers on the bridge.  
Ponch's voice broke him out of horror.

"We're trapped out here! There's nothing but water surrounding us!" Frank said, running to the top tilted corner on their slab of roadway.

"Are there more waves on the way in?" Brice asked.

Panicked, the others faced out to sea and studied the place where the sea met the sky on the horizon quickly. But there was nothing but chop to be seen, churning up old and new debris.

Craig unlooped his radio and pressed the talk button. "Mayfair Eighteen to Triage. Do you copy?" There was no reply. He switched channels to the main emergency fire department's and repeated his hail. He got nothing but static back.

He looked for the large repeater tower on the hillside and realized that it was damaged severely, for it canted at a forty five degree angle, facing inland. He heard choppers, unseen, in the fog.

Reflexively, Craig looked at the top of the ambulance, which was now a wall facing them, and noticed that their roof antennae was no longer there. "The radio isn't working, but they'll find us."

"Yeah, but they can't land. There's no room." Jon Baker said.

"They don't have to land." said the Guardsman. "They've got scoop baskets and can lower those down to us on a cable."

Ponch thought of something. "Is that damaged communications tower over there just the fire department's?" he asked Craig.

"Yes."

"Then I'll just bet our police one's just fine. I still see it on top of that mountain. Also our bike radios are one hundred percent waterproof!" Frank grinned hugely and went running for the mounted highway patrol motorcycles still attached to the front grill rack of the ambulance.

Ponch snatched up a microphone and dried it on his uniform shirt. "Seven Mary Four to CHiP Central. Do you read me? Emergency."

##Seven Mary Four. Go ahead. You have channel priority.##

"We're in the middle of the bay. We're on a pile of debris where the Vincent Thomas Toll bridge used to be. Send us a rescue helicopter for four people. And notify the fire department dispatcher of our status."

##10-4, Mary Four. Chopper assistance is being dispatched towards the Harbor Bay Inlet.##

Frank smiled hugely, and tossed down the radio mic in satisfaction.  
He jogged back to the others.

"Did you get through?" Craig asked Ponch as he laid out their medical gear and several folded blankets for warmth away from the cold, wet stone.

"Sure did. A chopper's coming. We're gonna need it." Frank shared, clasping his black leather gloved hands together. "The water's going down to normal towards the bridge head on the shore, but not fast enough." he said, suddenly tired. He sat down on the rocks to rest a bit. "Wow. I'm bruised up."  
Brice nodded in agreement. "Is anyone injured past that?" he asked to the group at large. "We fell quite a distance."

"Me." said the Guardsman. "I... think I wrecked my back." he spoke from where he sat on the slippery pavement. "I felt a twinge a minute ago and now... I can't feel my feet anymore." A few seconds later, he found that air only came into his lungs as voluntary gasps. "Whaa-?" he asked, confused, startling.

"It's dyspnea. Take it easy. Just relax. How far down was it?" Brice asked, feeling his neck pulse. He found it fast and bounding.

"Between my shoulder...blades." the man replied. "I'm really beginning to hurt." he said, clenching his teeth at another spasm.  
"I'm getting...very short of... breath."

"We'll help you with that. Try not to move any more." Brice told him.  
Craig glanced down and saw that the corpsman's boots were starting to tremble. "Jon, grab his head. Keep it still. He's a positive spinal. Ponch, get the O2 resuscitator and a short board. I'll grab the long spinal board and a collar. Let's get him immobilized first, then we'll sweep him for other trauma."

They got to work.

The Battalion Chief broke off radio communications with the Highway Patrol Dispatcher after getting all pertinent information. He lifted his broad band handy talkie and spoke to everyone in the department. "This is I.C. Battalion One to USAR Fire Station 103 in Pico Rivera, and USAR Fire Station 134 in Lancaster. Respond your Squad and Engine companies to the Vincent Thomas Toll Bridge collapse site. Approach from the north side and stay on high ground. I want an assessment of the terrain and estimates on the chances of any probable survivors. Combine your equipment and all personnel. You are so designated as a USAR Task Force. My call sign is now CA-2. We are switching operations to using the National Incident Management System. I've just learned that this disaster is effecting large portions of coastline along the state's entire length with the hardest hit being Torrance. I want a report as soon as you get on scene. There's just been a transmission from one of two missing Mayfair ambulances. It was on the bridge when it went down. Four victims. The Coast Guard is responding to assist."

##10-4, CA-2. 134 in Lancaster, we acknowledge relocation. Update:  
The Motel Super Eight structure is gone. It's been washed away. No survivors.##

##CA-2. 103, Pico Rivera copies. Our E.T.A. to the bridge site is six minutes.##

Captain Stanley snapped out orders. "Gang, get on the truck.  
We're going to the bridge. It's in our assigned area."

Chet, Marco and Stoker did not question the decision. In fact,  
they embraced it instantly, moving quickly to secure themselves to their seats.

"Any word from Johnny?" Kelly asked, worried. He still had helicopter hair, tangled and dirty. He shoved on his helmet to get it out of his eyes.

"Not yet." Cap told him as he belted in. "But you heard CA-2.  
He said that one Mayfair ambulance is already talking."

"It's gotta be Brice." Chet mumbled. "He walks away from everything. Kind of like Stoker here. Johnny just catches it in the-"

"Hey! Nobody's gonna write off anybody! Especially you about one of our own crewmates!" Hank bellowed. Then he quieted as Mike quickly maneuvered the Ward onto a police controlled freeway. "Johnny may get banged up a bit often, but he's never down for good. Please don't forget that, pal." he said to Chet, more gently. "Now let's go find him and bail his butt." he said, clutching the note that Dixie had delivered to him.

Chet and Marco failed to smile.

Bob Bellingham ran over to Roy DeSoto with a written order from the Battalion Chief. He started bouncing around happily. "I've got you sprung, Buddy. Let's go." he said. "Let's get out of here. The squad's waiting right over-"

"You did what? I can't leave. There are tons of critical victims still coming in." Roy said, showing Bob his patient injury soiled gloves.

"You can now. Dixie McCall is taking over for you as head Triage Officer. She put in a good word." he hinted, no nonsense. "And the chief saw the wisdom after hearing that she had three doctors backing her up." Bellingham ansed. "The Chief says that he wants all available pre-hospital care and technical rescue experts on the bridge. And we're it! USAR's gonna beat us there if we don't hurry. So let's move!"

Roy did, without hesitation. He left his Head of Triage vest lying abandoned on the grass next to his bloody gloves.

Photo: Roy DeSoto looking intent by a red engine.

Photo: Bellingham outside in daylight near the squad.

Photo: Ponch and Jon with a Los Angeles County Fire Paramedic.

Photo: A military jeep getting washed away.

Photo: A collasped bridge deck, folded like taffy.

Photo: An open, empty Mayfair.

Photo: Brice treating a downed man in rubble.

Photo: Urban Search and Rescue Units, 134 Lancaster.

Photo: Los Angeles County USAR trailer side view.

Photo: USAR 130 Pico Rivera's light tender and heavy rescue truck.

Photo: USAR team firefighters, getting briefed on an incident.

Photo: Battalion One (CA-2) , wearing turnout and a white command helmet.

From:patti k () Sent:Thu 10/14/10 2:36 AM Subject: Intervention..

"How are you doing now, lieutenant?" Brice asked his firmly immobilized patient.

The pale Guardsman tried to smile. "I think my lungs are trying to go on...strike." he gasped in spite of wearing a rich flow of pure oxygen.

Craig tilted his head, concentrating for a moment. Then he began carefully palpating around the man's neck under the cervical collar, where it met the base of his skull. The sweating man screamed and Brice whipped his hands away just as fast. "A little tender?"

"Y-Yeah. And my fingers are buzzing a bit."

"Which ones?"

"The...ring and pinky fingers on both...hands and then down the outsides of my... wrists." said the soldier, out of breath.

Ponch looked up from the suction he was setting up. "Is it his back?"

Brice shook his head. "No. Down there is just a strained muscle.  
I felt the tear. The problem is higher up. I felt a misalignment.  
I'm thinking maybe it's a compression of.." he hesitated, mindful of the corpsman's knowledge. "C-1."

The soldier's eyes grew wider in his distress. "A hangman's fracture?"

Brice was firm. "There's some swelling. Nothing else. There's a very good chance this is just a disc pressing on-"

"..the nerves controlling my...diaphragm muscles." he finished.

"Yes. Probably because we landed so hard, unprepared." said Craig, pushing his glasses up a little farther onto his nose. "You aren't claustrophobic are you?"

"Not... in the least." said the Guardsman with blue tinted lips.

"Okay, we're gonna start bagging you to help you get in some better inhalations. Relax. Don't fight it." Craig nodded to Ponch to begin.

The man held the bag valve mask away for a moment. "R.S.I. for later?" he asked.

"Not with that neck." Craig replied rather sharply. "Believe it or not, your being awake on assisted ventilations will tell us a great deal about how you're oxygenating over all."

Frank gave their patient a test vent on ambu."How's that?"

The soldier lifted a weak hand of casual dismissal. Once the man was pink again, Brice hurried in his other care. He established an I.V. of Normal Saline and then looked up at Baker for some vital signs in a questioning glance.

"His pressure's 80/64. Respirations were 32 unassisted, pulse is weak at 142, but still regular." replied the blond haired CHiP officer.

"Spinal shock'll do that. Doesn't mean he's critical. Just...  
compromised temporarily." Craig bumped up the Guardsman's I.V. to wide open. Craig got the soldier's attention. "Corpsman, I'm going to go get orders for mannitol and a steroid. Now you know as well as I do that those meds should start easing the spinal cord swelling in your neck. I'll be right back." Brice waited for their patient's wave before he departed for Ponch's bike radio.

Frank smiled while Jon Baker opened the man's shirt to listen to his breath sounds by stethoscope. Ponch didn't look away while bag breathed for his patient. "I never thought I'd wake up this morning having to be somebody's pair of lungs by lunch time."  
he joked.

The soldier laughed weakly.

"What's your name?" the Hispanic CHiP officer prompted.

"Michael." sighed the Guardsman at the end of a delivered breath.

Baker spoke up, taking the hearing ports of his stethoscope out of his ears. "His chest's clear."

The corpsman raised his eyebrows. "No asthma history. Or else-"

"...you'd never be in this high a level in the National Guard. Yeah, I can see that." Ponch finished for him. "You warm enough?"

"Getting c-cold."

Jon smiled. "I'll go get those blankets then. The sun's probably heated them up hot as a toaster by now."

Ponch added more."Between my partner and I, we'll get you out of this shock real soon. Just grab my arm if something feels off on the bag, okay? I got the suction right here." he said.

Michael grinned tiredly, admiring the ironically calm blue sky above them. "EMT, heal-"

"...thyself. Yeah, I know." finished Ponch."I get a little gung ho on rescues. Jon here can tell you that."

The soldier held up amused, no comment gesturing palms.

Officer Baker began bundling up the injured man and elevating his feet by propping up the soldier's long board onto an unused splint bag.

"Hmm. At what rate here, Jon?" Frank asked, pointing at Michael with a finger around the inflatable bag. "I forgot."

"Twelve!" Baker warned in alarm.

Michael flashed the same number, but using his fingers.

Ponch became all highly amused teeth. "Just kidding, both of you. Lighten up." he grinned as he kept squeezing on the bag without breaking any rhythm.

The shocky Guardsman finally relaxed his whole knotted up body and let the highway patrol officers completely take over his emergency care.

A technical scout from the first urban search and rescue unit crested the top of the hill above the bridge site in full high angle gear. He whistled low in his throat in utter disbelief. "I wonder what the forces had to be to wash you away." he muttered to the missing bridge. Then he got on his radio and reported in his findings. "This is Captain Cooper to USAR Taskforce One.  
I've found a safe entry point down to the debris field on the shoreline. Regolith to the bridge head apron looks consistently stable. Go ahead and bring the trucks on down." Even as Robert talked, he continually glassed the water for survivors using a pair of binoculars.

A figure in white, lying by a wave crushed automobile on the beach,  
attracted the USAR captain's attention. He carefully stepped over lumber splinters, twisted steel gusset plates and other pier debris until he was close enough to reach what he now knew as a definite victim from the bridge collapse, sprawled face down. It was a man from the EMS profession.

Robert flipped him over and he saw a name tag. "Turner." he read.  
He could tell right away that the trauma evident on the young curly haired man hadn't been survivable. He toggled the talk switch on his shoulder again. "Found a black tag at the waterline. He's a Mayfair EMT. They've got to be around here some place. He's still got a radio on his belt. Also, he had nowhere else to go before the second wave struck."

##Think he was running?## asked another USAR commander, Scott Meyers, by hand held transmission.

"H*ll, yeah. There's red mud still caked in the grooves of his sneaker soles that matches right up with the hillside up there by our access road. Seeing any skid marks matching an ambulance's treads on the asphalt?"

##Yes.## replied Scott.

Robert Cooper turned back towards the choked ocean bay one more time. "Then you are down here somewhere." he said to himself about Mayfair Three. "Don't worry, you guys." he prayed for its occupants. "My men and I are gonna find you, come H*ll or high water." he promised, studying the massive broken bones of the toll bridge's steel struts lying jumbled and groaning all around him.

Photo: National Guardsman talking.

Photo: Ponch looking down reassuringly on a patient.

Photo: Craig Brice by a squad.

Photo: A tipped Mayfair ambulance.

Photo: A pulverized toll bridge and wreckage.

Photo: A man being examined while spinally immobilized.

Photo: An ambu bag valve mask kit, opened.

Photo: A rescuer's silhouette on a hilltop.

Photo: A closeup of collapsed bridge damage.

Photo: A male trauma fatality among debris.

Photo: A USAR commander on his stomach assessing a ledge below his position.

Photo: USAR rescue trucks 103 and 134.

**************************************************  
From:patti k () Sent:Thu 10/14/10 11:06 PM Subject: Breathless

Chuuuuuhhhhhhh... A cool gush went into her lungs. Effortlessly.  
Something soft and confining stayed pressing firmly around Rosalie's nose and mouth as her cheeks billowed out. She felt her lungs expand a second time. And she wasn't the one doing it. That was startling; more than frightening. But she still couldn't move.

Chuuuuuuhhhhhh...

A male voice close to her sounded very far away. It was calling her by name. "...rosalie? ...can you hear me? ...try to breathe for me..." came a glimmer of command. "...i...got...you.."

Chuuuuuhhhhh... Again came another life giving breath. It was mechanically delivered, in a hiss.

Complete consciousness returned in that last, noisy rush of sound.

Rosalie Arnold suddenly snapped wide awake, her wet limbs flopping in blind panic. She found that she was coughing out pure scentless oxygen along with a lot of gritty dust. She choked violently,  
trying to get rid of the pressure still on top of her face, by twisting her head to the side.

"No, you don't. Rosalie, you need this. Hold still.." came the voice again. This time it was right next to her ear, sounding both familiar and worried.

She started to feel the terror again, but then her muscles finally began to work in a first, very weak voluntary intake of breath. To EMT Arnold, it felt like she had to re-learn just how to do it, all over again. And then her EMT memories suddenly came flooding back. "Johnny?" she sobbed, her mouth dry and caked.

"Easy, easy, easy. Here..Keep this mask on your face. I've been helping you." Gage ordered, controlling her spasming with a forearm while he let go of the oxygen demand valve's ventilation trigger. "See if you can do this yourself now. It's on passive."

Rosalie gripped it with a hand and sucked in a larger breath of O2.  
The mask gave it to her in abundance.

"Good. Take another breath in. You're still a little cyanotic." he said tensely, feeling her carotid pulse at her neck.

She did it.

"Feeling better? You're getting rosier.." he joked.

Arnold didn't laugh.  
"*Cough*...what happened?" she whispered hoarsely, remembering that they were still inside the Mayfair ambulance in the pitch black darkness. Only now, there was a canted lit flashlight shining on her face from where it was sitting on the caretaker's bench.

"I found a piece of concrete lying on top of your chest when I woke up after the second wave hit. But you were fine. You were never under water.  
You just got suffocated a little." He glanced up at the roof of the ambulance where it was sagging down under tons of rubble. Arnold could see where the hole was that had allowed the chunk of bridge debris that hurt her, to get through.

"Not what I call a favorite souvenir." she grimaced as he held it up.  
Then she thought back to her last recall of events before she had blacked out. Rosalie got mad and sat up on the ambulance cot. "Why did Mel jump out? He was driving for Pete's sake!" She coughed again,  
spitting out dirt and saliva. She was gripping the demand valve assembly so hard, that its rubber squeaked. "And, then.. and then... we just fell off the edge-" she broke off, crying hot tears of shock.

Gage offered gallows humor as he prepared a non rebreather for her. "Nothing amnesiac for you about it. Yeah, the bridge dropped out right in front of us. Turner must have had a thing about heights or he never would have panicked like that." he nodded, still feeling her pulse rate in a wrist absently. He wasn't even fully aware that he was still doing it.

She wasn't aware of it either, still numb.  
"We're buried completely?" she said, looking around for daylight and not finding any.

"Yeah. And the radio's gone. Mel had it." he said, setting the new flowing oxygen mask gingerly around her face. "Can I start an I.V. on you?" he asked, wincing reluctantly, with good reason.

"No." she said instantly. "As far as you're concerned I stopped being a patient the moment my eyes opened and I knew where I was."

"I thought you might say that." he mumbled, setting a disgruntled chin onto his hand where he slumped onto his elbow on top of the pillow next to her head.

"Implied consent's a b*tch." she snapped. Then she whirled backwards.  
"Wait a minute, where's the Guardsman? He was up front-" she started to get up.

"No,..No!." he said, grabbing her dirty arm."You're not going up there. There's nothing left of the front end. It's been crushed flat by fallen debris. An entire steel girder it looks like."

"Then he's-"

"Yeah."

Rosalie flopped back down onto the bed, feeling green. "If we're buried by at least part of a highway bridge, how come the air's so fresh in here?"

"I turned on the E tank in the side compartment. We've got oxygen for nine hours if we breathe slow." Johnny told her.

"Nice work."

"Thanks."

They sat in silence with only her hissing oxygen to keep them company.

Then Rosalie got analytical EMT. "Are you hurt anywhere?" she asked, feeling up and down her own body experimentally. "I already know about me."

"Not a scratch." he told her. "Only my hair's messed up." Johnny joked,  
rubbing some dust out of it.

"Oww.." Rosalie said, feeling a twinge on her head. She felt where it was sore and was surprised by the mummy's wrap job she felt around her head.

"Yeah, you got beaned. I wrapped your head to control the bleeding from a cut on your forehead."

"You patched me up at the same time you ventilated my lungs?"

Gage threw out a careless hand, then templed annoyed fingers in the air on top of his dirty white knees. "I'm good. Really good. Want to see the strip I got off ya, too?" he said, holding up the trailing paper sticking out of the EKG machine.

"You got a reading off me?"

"You're on a twelve lead." Johnny smirked tightly, indicating the front of her.

Rosalie looked down the collar of her neatly rebuttoned up uniform shirt and saw that it was true. "You're scary." she said, snatching the tracing out of his hands.

Gage's mouth waxed embarrassed.  
"No, I was...being considerate. I had no idea how you'd react once you found out that I had your shirt wide open down to bare skin."

"I was dying." she said, rolling unamused eyes at him. "I wasn't breathing. You had every right to rip my clothes off." she snorted through her oyxgen mask. "And besides that, I'm not shy.  
Being totally naked for my own medical emergency doesn't phase me in the least."

"Oh. Okay. I stand corrected." Gage snapped in irritation and relief. He reached out and undid a few buttons under her throat so she could breathe more freely nimbly, without looking down.

"Smart guy. Grow up." she finally glared.

"I'm doing my job." he shrugged, still shooting daggers. "And thank you, Mr. Gage, for saving my life just now." he prompted.

Rosalie softened, smoothing the wrinkles of her EKG strip neatly onto her blanketed lap without reading it, and then she smiled at him with a genuine tentative warmth. Without saying anything, she pulled her oxygen mask off her face to down around her neck, leaned forward, and then she kissed him gently on the lips. "You know what I'm thinking."

"First time I finally do." he said quietly, reciprocating.

She sighed, completely enraptured.

Johnny leaned back when it was over and flicked on the audio of the Tetronix. "Okay, Miss EMT. What do we got on the scope? Prescribe course of treatment and any recommendations for this patient's continued acute care."

"Don't leave Fireman Johnny Gage's side." she grinned. "Can't anyway. We're stuck down here."

Something in his face changed. Arnold saw the paramedic in his expression disappear leaving behind a sweet, adorable, uncertain, but loving man.  
"I can live with that. Probably for.. the rest of my life, Rosalie." he finally said.

"Be sure you do." she said, cocking her head saucily.

Johnny snapped her oxygen mask back onto her face.

Photo: EMT Rosalie Arnold wounded and on oxygen.

Photo: Johnny Gage looking down, tired, next to a rock face.

Photo: The remains of a fallen highway water crossing bridge and cars.

Animation: Flashing lights of a Cadillac ambulance.

Photo: Medical people lowering an ambu bag onto your face.

Photo: Close up. A woman kissing Johnny Gage in an embrace.

From:patti k () Sent:Sat 10/16/10 1:09 AM Subject: First Rule Of Survival... Don't Kill Each Other...

The small circle of flashlight illumination was almost comforting again as Johnny Gage took the stethoscope out of his ears after taking Rosalie's blood pressure for the fifth time since her close call and near death experience. "Well, it's coming back up. Finally. It's ninety eight over seventy four."

"That's good. I hated being nauseated." she coughed. Her voice was still muffled behind the high flowing oxygen mask.

Gage studied her face easily.  
"That was shock. You didn't puke on me. But your adrenaline rush has got to be over by now." he analyzed out loud for her,  
looking at his watch for the time. "So do tell. Did that big concrete chunk coming down break any of your ribs or not?" he asked, waggling a few fingers in a non-verbal yes-bad-or-no-good pain level check. "I'm noticing that you are purposely keeping your inhalations shallow."

Arnold pulled the blankets up to her chin in a hug. "You already know the answer to that one." she grumbled. "I'm just sore."

"Oww." Johnny exclaimed, pantomiming being shot the heart. "Yeah. I had to find out, but I'm not guilty as charged." he said.  
"You didn't ventilate for me right away. So I got to thinking that a flail's chances on you, considering the weight of that rock, were more than just good, so I had to check for one."

"I'm not fractured. And I've been told by doctors that I've got really hard bones." she said, thumping her own breast bone.

"And a really high pain threshold. If I had a chest bruise that big, I'd be crying like a baby." he told her.

Rosalie smirked, making a face. "So... How long was I down?"

Johnny studied his mud cracked hands, almost reluctant to tell her. "You were throwing PVC's one every three with a rate of one eighty V-tach so I'm guessing.. three, almost four minutes in apnea? I don't know exactly. I just remember waking up and finding you already deep in the middle of crisis. After that, my auto pilot kicked in and I lost track of time."

"Did you get a strip of any of that?" she asked curiously. "I've never seen hypoxic effects on a patient."

He got irritated.  
"No... Man, I was scoping ya with the paddles at that point. Right after I got a decent chest rise. I thought I could skip the 'C' in your primary assessment, but I had to go right back up into the 'B' until your color returned along with a sinus rhythm. You were in bad shape, Rosalie." Gage told her frankly.

"I still am." she declared, frowning, her eyes unfocusing.

Johnny did a double take. "Huh?" His eyes shot to the EKG monitor.  
::What did I miss here?:: he thought to himself, paling.

She let him off the hook. "I'm starving, Johnny. It's been six hours since we had that buffet this morning. Do we have any food stashed any place?"

Gage scoffed, equally relieved as annoyed. "Wow, Miss Arnold. I guess my brain is still too stuck in its life or death mode to have considered anything else out that far yet."

Rosalie was equally sarcastic.  
"Oh, yeah? Well, not me. I know we'll be safe enough once we patch up that roof hole again." she replied, eyeing it up appraisingly.

Johnny considered the problem. "You're right. You're still a target smack dab in the center of a gravitational bullseye." He got up and stood on the rails of Rosalie's cot, balancing easily as he peered up into the jagged gap with a flashlight. "There's a lot of air moving through here." he confirmed,  
sticking his head through the tear. "It sounds echoey like there's a large space or crevasse straight above us." Gage got out the CPR board and shoved it up through the hole vertically before he maneuvered it flat like a lid over the top of it. "There." he said, brushing the dust off of his hands. "No more debris falls for you."

Arnold smiled. "Oh, darn. And I wanted to play Atlas some more." she said,  
admiring his constructed handy work.

Johnny finally broke out into genuine laughter. "You're really something, you know that? You almost died ten minutes ago and here you are joking about it."

"What else am I supposed to do?" she asked incredulously. "Act all meek and scared and helpless about it? *Pfsshh* It's over." she shrugged.

"I admire your moxy." he grinned, starting to dig around all the extra gear piled up outside of the regular storage spots that they had prepared at the onset of the tsunamis. "Food huh? Let's see what I can-" He hesitated when he found the Guardsman's field backpack behind the captain's seat, but then he picked it up. "There's bound to be some in here."

Rosalie scowled at him when she saw it, almost shivering. "Shouldn't we leave that be? It's not ours."

Johnny held firm. "Rosalie, think about it. He would have probably shot us if we DIDN'T scavenge his stuff, given our situation." he defended.

Rosalie finally relented.  
"Make sure it's not booby trapped or rigged." she said, not wanting to touch it after Gage set it on top of her legs to thoroughly riffle through its contents.

"He was a soldier, not a secret agent." he chided.

"I'm talking about other loaded guns or unsheathed knives, Bucko.  
Keep going fast. When you cut or shoot some fingers off, I'll make sure to laugh really hard."

"Funny girl." he gaped. "Ah, here's something. A couple of MRE's."  
A loud rumble from an interior gut's territory made him stop cold. He glanced at Arnold, expressionless. "Uh..need the bedpan? I...had to use some epi to jumpstart your breathing reflex again."

Rosalie's mouth flopped open under her oxygen mask. "Oh, do divulge!  
I have a right to know what you did to me. No wonder I was so keyed up coming to." she groused. "And that peristalsis a second ago was definitely above the duodenum, Mr. Paramedic. Fine tune those ears a little more. You guessed wrong."

Johnny angled his head, squinting at her in contemplation. "I'm not saying it's for right now. I'm talking about the time five minutes from now." he clarified. "Epinephrine has a tendency to...speed things up a little. Remember?"

Rosalie snorted superiority, but then angrily admitted defeat, when her gurgling moved south. "Do we have anywhere to dump it afterwards?"

Gage was good enough not to smile.  
"I don't know yet. I haven't wanted to open up the rear doors for fear that moving them would jostle and destabilize the roof enough to bring down all the rest of the debris lying on top of us."

"If the bridge hasn't crushed us by now, it's not going to without a really big shove from another tidal wave, first." she remarked dryly.

"I suppose so." he said, sitting back down onto the bench with a silver bed pan parked next to him. "Ready?" he asked, reaching for the hatch release. "I'm gonna jerk one open in case it's gotten jammed on us."

"Wa-!" she shouted, throwing up a warning hand.

Gage flung open the left door vigorously with a shoulder and a foot.

Slam!

Nothing happened. The weight bowed ceiling didn't even groan.

The door slid back neatly into the notched stay with a soft snick. Johnny gave Rosalie a rakish half bow. "Milady." he sniffed in jest.  
"Your latrine awaits." and he pointed out to her the open rear end with a flourish of showy hands and a widened spotlight.

Arnold popped out her EKG cord plug from the monitor and threw her leads over a shoulder. Then she unhooked her oxygen line and did the same thing over the other side. The activity made her start to cough again and feel dizzy.

He noticed her color change. "Ah. Ah. Ah! Slowly. Don't want you to faint. Arnold, I'm telling you, you're getting off that cot slow." he warned. She ignored him. She wormed herself around Gage to make a fast beeline for the pitch black cavern of debris that lay beyond. "About time..." she complained, snatching both the metal pan and the flashlight from his patiently waiting, item offering fingers.

Gage grinned. "See? I told you, you had to-"

"Oh, shush!" she spat, wrapping the blanket around herself tightly to ward off the damp. She stumbled somewhat unsteadily into the darkness.

"What do you want for a drink with your food? Saline or D5W?"  
he asked, raising his voice so she could still hear him outside of the ambulance as he looked at all the I.V. solution bags in a storage compartment using his shirt pocket pen light.

"Both are totally disgusting outside of a vein!" she countered.

"Sorry, you don't want one in yours. All I got are paper cups." he shouted back.

"All right, already. You can stick me when I get back!"

Johnny started chuckling as he smoothed down Rosalie's cot sheet wrinkles to occupy himself long enough to give her some visual privacy to take care of bodily business. ::Oh yes. Things are definitely looking up.:: he thought with a smile about her improved medical condition. ::Now... I wonder what's for dinner?::  
he wondered, peering at the labels of the military ready to eat meals.

Photo: Johnny Gage looking disgruntled by the Engine.

Photo: Rosalie Arnold, EMT, in white, looking cheeky.

Photo: A catastrophic bridge collapse into water.

Photo: A I.V. bag of Ringers, packaged.

Photo: The cramped interior by an ambulance's rear doors.

Photo: Military ready to eat meals, spread out neatly with a spoon.

Photo: A metal bedpan.

**************************************************  
From:patti k () Sent:Sun 10/17/10 5:26 AM Subject: Muster and Bluster...

Captain Stanley had Stoker park the Ward far forward of the six vehicles comprising USAR Task Force One. As Chet, Marco, Stoker and Hank piled out of the cab, they saw Squad 51 pull up. Cap just about cried with relief when he saw who was with Bob Bellingham inside of it. "Roy!" Stanley shouted. "Over here!"

DeSoto slid on an extra turnout jacket and station helmet over his white Mayfair uniform and the two of them joined Engine 51.

Cap smiled and clapped Roy on the shoulder. "How did you get away with showing up here, pal?" he asked happily.

"They over delegated personnel assigned to Triage. Dixie had a lot to do with releasing me to Rescue Operations. I guess I'm the official Mayfair Ambulance Company representative to find out and account for our missing people. Any word?" Roy asked.

Chet happily nudged DeSoto, handing him a pair of field glasses. "Just take a look at that pile of concrete out there in the middle of the bay. You'll be smiling."

Roy did. "Hey, it's Brice and the two Highway Patrolmen."

"Yep. And they've got a patient, a National Guardsman." said Stoker. "The county's about to fly them all out to Triage."

Roy squinted into the lifting fog in the sky. "Where's the chopper?"

"They had to land a minute to dump a few stretchers in order to make more room on board." Cap reported.

DeSoto swore. "D*mn. I have to stay on the Mayfair frequencies or I'd listen in." he said, gluing his eyes to the view finder targetting the battered Mayfair tilted precariously on the slab of broken roadway. "Craig doesn't seem to be hurrying, but they're bagging that guy."

"It's a cervical spine case with no loss of consciousness. Only some involuntary motor functions." replied a new voice. The Station 51 gang looked up. A man in USAR jumpsuit orange offered Roy his hand.  
"You must be the Mayfair liaison they told me was coming to the bridge."

DeSoto nodded, shaking palms quickly. "Captain..." he prompted.

"..Robert Cooper from 134's usually. But now they've put me in charge of this whole mess." he said, casting an arm out towards the twisted framework of bridge stanchions.

"Any survivors discovered?" Roy asked.

Robert's very light blue eyes softened into sympathy underneath his military buzzcut. "I'm afraid I have some bad news about a Mayfair man." replied Cooper.

The gang immediately froze on their feet.

The USAR Captain showed Roy a battered name tag.

DeSoto read it. "Mel." he sighed. "He's one of our new EMTs." Roy fingered it sadly and stuck it into his shirt pocket.

"I'm sorry. He didn't make it." said Robert. "We have positive signs that his ambulance went down with the rest of the bridge on the north side of the freeway near the shoreline. We found tire marks consistent with a Mayfair that went off the edge."

Cap's face fell. "Have you heard anything from the rubble?"

"Not a peep. If they're still alive, they can't respond even if they have working radios. The local repeater tower's had it. The whole bay's been blacked out over anything that's on open water. Now if you'll excuse me, my men and I need to get back to work."

"Captain Cooper." said Hank, stopping him. "Can you give us an assignment? Station Ten is also covering this area."

Robert sighed, somewhat impatiently. "With all due respect, 51. That pile out there is no place for a regular firefighter crew. Paramedics,  
we can use. They're always working entrapments and high angle rescues just like us."

Cap leaned in close, making sure he had direct face to face contact.  
His eyes glittered with smouldering conviction. "Sir, that's one of my men lost out there. I'm not going anywhere until he's found or I'm ordered to leave by CA-2 himself."

Cooper paused at the very persistent hand on his shoulder. He finally nodded, coming to a decision. "Evac out anyone we get up to the road.  
The intact part!" he warned.

"Thank you. We'll help muster your team's gear to the edge of the collapse zone."

Robert continued walking away. "Look for Steve Ramsey in a white helmet, two stripes. He'll tell you what to haul and where."

Cap pointed at Roy and Bellingham, passing off an extra radio. "I want updates every half hour." he ordered his paramedics.

Bob and DeSoto nodded and followed Captain Cooper on his way to rejoin his deploying USAR crew in the hot zone. They were very glad they had been taken in to become part of the team. Soon, they knew, they would be hearing the initial scene size up that Cooper and the others had collected on solo sortees just a few minutes earlier.

Chet swallowed and watched them go. "USAR's got a point, Cap. Nothing out there can catch fire. It's all steel, rock and seawater."

Cap's eyes never left Roy and Bob's departing backs. "Ambulances can, Chet. Ambulances can."

"Okay, people! Listen up!" said Cooper to the twelve men hustling equipment and heavy rescue ropes and stays. "We are going to split up into two groups of six. Each group grabs a paramedic. This is Bellingham. And that is DeSoto to my right. Both are from 51's."

Bob and Roy accepted short nods in greeting from the USAR men who didn't pause in their preparations.

"At no time will we enter the debris zone." said Robert, loud enough so that everyone could hear him. "Not until the USGS gives us the next wave's definitely confirmed E.T.A. We will be posting spotters on the cliff tops at the north and south bridge head entry points. USAR Air is currently handling the survivors from the ambulance found above water. If you find a positively known live victim elsewhere before then, radio in your location and put up a flare or dye bomb the water."  
Robert told them.

"A chopper and/or the Navy Seals or a Coast Guard cutter will come to assist you. That way, they can snatch you either onto a wave proof boat or get you up into the relative safety of the air on a moment's notice in case of a new tsunami warning activation alert. Our radios may be dead out there, but GPS is working. Utilize it." ordered Cooper, no nonsense.

The USAR men nodded, checking their shoulder units' battery packs.

"Also, keep your eyes peeled for another Mayfair ambulance like the one you're all currently staring at instead of looking at me. They have three of four who were on board, still missing. The fourth was located, he's a DOA on the beach near the location we suspect the second ambulance was buried by the collapsing bridge.

Robert met every pair of eyes slowly, one by one.  
"Do not tag the deceased. There are too many of them. This is strictly a pluck and run operation. The danger out there to life and limb is still far too great to dilly dally. Keep in mind, at all times, that your own safety is paramount. Be sure of absolute stability anywhere you step in heavily damaged searchable areas. Leave the mountain climbing to the demolition crews who will be determining ways to crack open potential survivor locations. Keep within eye or earshot range of everybody else in your group. Don't try to play the hero, for your backup team members WILL save your life, in a pinch. But only if they know where you are and what the problem is that you've suddenly encountered, first hand. Okay! Let's move!" he bellowed.

Then he gestured once more. "Technical specialists, a moment, if you will." he beckoned.

Two men came forward, strapping on their equipment laden helmets.  
Robert turned to them. "Watch those two new paramedics like a hawk.  
They know the ambulance victims."

"Yes, sir." they replied.

"Have at it, now. Good luck, men." Cooper nodded briskly.

Photo: Cap comforting Chet by the engine.

Photo: Roy looking worried in turnout by the engine.

Photo: Twisted steel of a collapsed bridge.

Photo: Crews assessing a waterline rescue by an overturned truck in concrete debris.

Photo: A yellow and white Los Angeles County Fire Department USAR chopper, in the air.

Photo: The back of USAR heavy truck Station 134.

Photo: A USAR commander talking with his men.

Photo: A USAR taskforce team going over scene orders and a map held by a team leader.

**************************************************  
From: patti k () Sent: Mon 10/18/10 3:37 AM Subject: Green, Yellow, Red.

USAR Air landed on the helipad where Dr. Morton was waiting for the first of the bridge victims to arrive. "Fantastic." he commented. "Somebody actually survived it." he remarked, gripping the gurney along with an EMT so it didn't blow away from them on its wheels in the powerful rotorblade winds. Mike threw up an exaggerated shrug to the pilot in front of the black, white and yellow craft from the County.

The busy fireman finally threw up four fingers.

"Four victims? Even better." Mike waved back, flashing an okay gesture over the din of the prop noise. His jaw hit the ground though, when he saw that his victims included Paramedic Brice and two CHiPs officers. The dark haired one was relaying messages to the police dispatcher on a borrowed handy talkie from one of the flight crew. The blond one, was keeping a patient ventilated by bag valve mask. Morton could see that he was from the military underneath all the straps and blanketing nestled around a spinal board and head block.

"Brice?" Morton prompted.

"Thirty nine year old male. He's a cervical spine. He's been developing finger paresthesia in the fourth and fifth bilaterally and some moderate diaphragmatic paralysis. He's been conscious the whole time. I..had to start this NS I.V. without orders."

"You're forgiven." Morton sighed easily. "We're not operating under normal protocols. Haven't been for hours."

An EMT took over aiding the man's breathing from Officer Baker.

"Hi." Morton said in a test as he examined the man's eyes.

The military man offered up a wave.

"Relax and don't move your head. This is a drop off point. You're back in Triage." the doctor shared.

"Home sweet..." the Guardsman tried to joke, but ran out of air.

"Up his O2 vents a little." Dr. Morton told the EMT.

Craig and Jon Baker rattled off vital signs as firefighters on the chopper helped them load his board and stokes onto the gurney. A second EMT, who ran up to join them, began a new set of vital signs.

"Mechanism of injury?" snapped Mike briskly.

Baker answered Morton's question. "A vertical fall of forty feet while inside a vehicle. We were on the balls of our feet, squatting on the front seats. We landed sideways." he said, shifting the in-use oxygen tank from the stokes to beneath the patient gurney.

"What kind of vehicle?"

"An ambulance."

"That's got good suspension. The jolt of impact should have been softened a great deal, even if landing on concrete."

"It...was." offered the Guardsman around a bagged breath. "I...was just holding my head wrong when we...hit."

Morton began his cursory exam of the man's head and neck.  
"Probably there is an impingement of your ulnar nerve due to segmental compression of the spinal cord in your neck. Brice, he's positive for Horner's."

"What's that?" asked the bagging Mayfair EMT assigned to the helipad.

"It's a constricted pupil on the ipsilateral side, a loss of sympathetic innervation to the eye, caused by damage to the sympathetic trunk in the neck." Brice told the attendant, removing the I.V. bag from underneath the Guardsman's shoulder. He held onto it, hanging the solution over the gurney to speed up its flow.

"Doc, I...didn't hit my head, ..or neck." the Corpsman gasped.

"Shush. Save your breath and take it from the bag, Corpsman." Morton said crisply. "You've got some blood oxygenating catch-up to do."

Craig reported more. "He's got a tear around T-1, but it's muscle.  
And a possible disc misalignment with swelling at the base of the skull above C-3 around C-1. I didn't feel any obvious cervical fracture. He was walking and climbing around with us, pain free, at first."

Mike checked for that carefully, by feeling around with his gloves. Then he nodded. "That explains a lot." said Morton as they all hurried away from the chopper. He glanced down at his patient. "Your diaphragm is supplied by the phrenic nerve that is formed in the neck from the spinal nerves, C3, 4 and 5. Corpsman, your slow onset of breathing difficulty is a good sign. Phrenic nerve paresis like this is not usually clinically significant. I wouldn't be surprised if we found just a case of cervical spondylotic myelopathy with bilateral phrenic paresis on X-ray. That clears up on its own with bed rest and anti-inflammatories."

"Need anything else from us, doc?" Brice asked when they reached the first Triage assessment pair of personnel working with Dixie.

"Yes." he replied to Craig. Then he held up a single index finger and put him on hold. Morton eyed up Dixie. "C3 compression, non-fracture. He'll need partial manual ventilation for now and while he transports."

McCall nodded to her pair of EMTs. "He's a red tag. Reassess him and get him on the next ride out." she told them.

A fire department paramedic took over for Craig by taking the Guardsman's I.V. bag from his hand.

Morton eyeballed Ponch, Jon and Brice. "Now, back to answering your question. Brice, Poncherello, Baker, you're my patients until I say otherwise."

"But.." began Craig.

"Doc, we feel fi-" Ponch said for both Baker and himself.

Mike interrupted him. "All three of you were in a vehicle accident resulting in a spinal trauma and none of you has had time yet to have yourselves examined for problems. I can see all your bruises from here! You dig?" he pegged angrily.

"Absolutely. Y-You're right, doctor." Craig finally admitted.

"D*mned straight. Tag yourselves green and sit over there." he ordered.  
"Eat, drink and get warm. One of us will be right with you." he said, pointing out to where Brackett and Early were making fast rounds among the yellow tags.

Morton jogged away to the helipad to report back to his Triage assigned location there.

Dixie watched her people work inside of the crowded green tag tent full of the walking wounded. When she was out of earshot of the neck injured Corpsman being treated outside, she spoke. "That went well." she smirked at Brice and the others about battling Morton's authority.

"Duty calls." Ponch shrugged. "We had to try. Half the state's underwater."

"Just the beaches and low lying communities." McCall shared. "This town's the only one so badly hit according to the news chopper pilots. Craig? Get off of your feet, too. You look exhausted." Dixie chided.

Brice grunted and gingerly lowered himself onto a chair as he started filling out their green tags. "Where's DeSoto? I don't see him."

"He's at the bridge." Dixie smiled craftily. "I had power enough to do it so I put him there. Bellingham, too." she said fiercely, her worry for Johnny very evident. She began opening up a cooler to give them all sandwiches and water bottles to fulfill Morton's doctor's orders on them.

"I'm not hungry." Frank said, refusing the food even as he took the water.

"Ponch?" asked Jon Baker.

"What?" Ponch asked in irritation, rubbing his sore spots.

"That definitely does not sound like him." said Baker to Dixie.

McCall's eyebrows went up. "Got banged up a lot more than you let on, did you? Why do guys always have to be so macho?" she commented dryly. She began to take his blood pressure from equipment laid out nearby. "No wonder you all die off so soon."

Brice kept on eating like a wolf. "His left foot punched through a window and he was face slammed into a wall that he didn't catch with his hands."

"Traitor.." Frank grumbled, sipping on his water unenthusiastically.

"Ponch, you forgot to fasten your seat belt?" Jon asked, getting mad.

Brice stayed out of it, knowing the value of tough love.

Dixie looked up from her reading. "90 over 58. Pulse's 100."

"What? No way!" Ponch protested.

"The numbers don't lie." she told him. "Here. Take it again if you doubt me." she said, tossing the neatly rewrapped cuff set into his lap. She tore off his green tag to a yellow one, with relish. "Move up a row of chairs. You've just graduated to the next higher grade of Triage."

The other green tag victims around them applauded and cheered, whistling a hearty congratulations, after having heard the whole exchange.

Ponch scowled at them and stiffly moved next to a leg splinted woman. He started fumbling with a blanket that Baker suddenly dropped on top of his head.

"Use it." Jon snapped. "And keep hydrating."

"Keep an eye out. He's trouble." Dixie smiled at Jon, jerking a thumb at Ponch.

"Don't I know it." Baker grumbled, eating quickly and fussing with Ponch's blanket wrap job.

Dixie hurried back out to the main Triage area for the next flight coming in.

-  
Photo: Coast Guard and USAR medical helicopters landing.

Photo: The inside of a medical chopper loaded with spinal immobilization gear and stretchers bolted to a wall.

Photo: Dr. Morton examining an off loaded male patient.

Photo: Ponch following a gurney down a hallway with EMTs.

Photo: Dixie, looking down, with long hair.

Photo: A Triage row in a gymnasium.

Photo: Dr. Morton in scrubs, looking no nonsense.

Photo: Dozens of cars flooded out in an aerial view.

*************************************************  
From:patti k () Sent:Wed 10/20/10 11:57 AM Subject: Repercussions

Dixie McCall kept on moving through the rows of victims in Triage outside of the college's athletic building. Whenever one of her team encountered a yellow or green tag, she had them moved or escorted into the gym with the others to get out of the chilly air outside. She kept a steady stream of rescue personnel clearing stretchers from the field to make room for new ones.

Stanley Dubois was just starting a rotation near Dixie, along with two other Mayfair EMTs that Dixie had run into earlier at Rampart a few days ago; Liz Stanton and Kate Brown; the very loud pair of mock drill verbal fighters from the nurse's lounge.

McCall saw that Stan was holding up well under the stress of so much exposure to blood, injuries and frequent death. The eye glassed blond haired young man was a rock, always moving carefully, performing only enough assessment steps needed to determine a triage tag classification in any one victim. Kate Brown, was another story. Dixie saw Liz patiently going over this patient or that patient with her a few times and quietly explaining findings to a nervously burbling Kate before authorizing out a color. They seemed to be a good EMT team pair up. ::A lot like how Roy and Johnny were as paramedics when they were first starting out.:: Dixie thought. She looked up and whistled. Dubois lifted his head and then joined her at her side. "Stan, I have some news and I want you to tell the others in the company because they're going to hear about it eventually, okay?"

"Sure, Miss McCall." he replied, grabbing a new stack of Triage tags and another handful of examination gloves from a box in between the victim rows. He stuffed them into the back of his pant's pockets.

"Two of our people have been effected by that last tsunami. One didn't make it." McCall said, squinting in the bright, cold sunlight.

"Who?" Stan asked, surprised. "I thought we were all on safe ground."

Dixie shook her head. "That second wave caught us all by surprise. Stan,  
it's Mel Turner. He was found near the washed away bridge. They...still haven't recovered him yet from the beach." She said, bending over a pair of stokes stretchers laid out on the grass.

"But he was with Johnny Gage, Rosalie Arnold and a Guardsman,..  
in Mayfair Three." Stan figured out.

"Good memory." Dixie said morosely, tagging a woman black when she felt no pulse remaining in her neck.

Dubois kept working swiftly, noticing Dixie's dead victim, but hiding it well.  
"I'm good with facts, Miss McCall. I glanced at our personnel assignments chart before I came out here. Uh,..what about the others with Turner?" he asked, sucking in his breath carefully. He absently shushed a moaning green tagged child near them with a soft touch of comfort to her head.

McCall gave the child a blown up glove balloon.  
"They haven't been found yet. They are assumed to be trapped by debris.  
The Battalion Incident Commander's just authorized an urban search and rescue team to sweep the collapse for survivors. They'll try to look for our people,  
too, if they can." Dixie said, writing the change of status that she had found with the woman onto her chart.

Dubois' calm, neutral expression changed and he finally looked down at his gloved and sweat wrinkled hands. "What can we do, Dixie? Anything?" he asked about Mayfair Company, finally moving over to the next untagged patient in his row. This was another child who was crying, cradling a bloody arm, with no parents in sight. Dubois quickly wrapped the laceration and did a quick exam on the boy, finding nothing life threatening. He tagged the child yellow.

"I've sent Roy DeSoto to the bridge. He'll be our eyes and ears." Dixie said,  
working alongside of him at the same pace in her own row. "I...just didn't want you or the other EMTs to learn about Mel, Rosalie, and Johnny through rumors and gossip. That's no way to find out about hard news."

"I appreciate it, Ma'am. I'll tell them." Stan promised, bending over to smile at a barely conscious teenager with two broken legs. "Hi there. I'm an EMT.  
I've come to check you out. What's your name?" he asked.

The young man didn't reply from where he lay in his stokes.

"That's okay. I can find out what else is wrong with you without any answers. Try to relax, you're safe now." he told the man. "The worst is over."

McCall recovered some emotional balance at the sound of Dubois' voice. She crouched by an older, sea soaked man. This time, she found a heartbeat. She slipped an oral airway into his mouth and quickly swept him from head to toe, looking for blood. He was uninjured, but unconscious. A gurgle told her why. "A near drowning.." she realized. She tagged him red, for his gasps were becoming rapid as his lungs compensated for pulmonary edema.

She stepped to another victim's head and started learning all over again about another medical condition.

Nearby, Liz Stanton had completed triage tagging a line of patients a few rows down from Dixie. She jogged over to speak with her while she scooped up more first aid supplies from the pile of boxes some National Guardsmen had left for them. "I know everything." she told Dixie. "I can read lips. I've decided not to tell Kate just yet. She's still jumpy and on edge. Any more stress and she'll buckle emotionally to the point of not being able to help out until she re-equalizes."

"Is she the only one handling Triage badly?" Dixie asked about the new Mayfair EMTs.

"Yes." replied Stanton. "But I've found she calms down a little once she's actually physically treating someone."

"That's a good reaction to have working inside of something this big." Dixie replied, about the tidal waves and their MCI triage numbers.

"Yeah...I know that. Dixie, I... actually came over to see how you were doing." Liz confessed.

McCall met her eyes with her own, extremely tired ones.  
"I'm okay, Liz. But honestly, I think I'm suddenly realizing just how close I am to the people I work with every day. All the paramedics, EMTs.. I can't believe how I ever took them for granted so casually in the past."

"Familiarity is easy to dismiss." Stanton said, cocking her head thoughtfully.  
Liz smiled as she peeled off some bloody gloves into a red plastic biohazard bag. She reached for a pair of new ones. "How long have you known Johnny Gage?" Stanton asked."You two squabble like a pair of really good friends."

Dixie's choked down a bark of laughter.  
"Seven years. Eight, if you count his paramedic class that I helped precept. I was with them at their first mass casualty incident on the night paramedics were finally given the legal authority to start treating patients without a nurse being present.  
They saved a man's life with a defibrillator, inside of a mud collapsing tun-."  
Dixie broke off, uncomfortable with parallel circumstances.

"A bridge is a different place, Dixie. It has far more air pockets and open spaces in a collapse than mud has." Stanton pointed out encouragingly.

"I hope you're right, Liz. I sure hope you're right." Dixie said, her eyes tearing up suddenly, shockingly.

Liz's mouth opened, round. "Oh, heyyy.. Shhhhh...Dixie. It's okay."  
Stanton took her into a gentle hug. "Come here. Shh."

McCall clung to her gratefully, finally letting worry and stress escape from every pore. "Oh, Johnny Gage,..." she sobbed. "...you be safe. You hear me?" McCall whispered to the wind. Then she just closed her heavily streaming eyes and buried her face in Liz's soft, supporting shoulder.

"They'll find him, Dixie." Liz promised. "They won't give up, until they do."

Up in the sky, a wheeling, confused seagull cried defiantly.

Far across the field, Kel saw Dixie as she crumbled into the arms of her coworker.  
That got him mad. And determined. He lifted his HT radio. "Triage M.D. to USAR One.  
Do you copy?"

##M.D., this is USAR One, Captain Cooper.## replied Captain Robert Cooper.

"Captain, this is Dr. Brackett. You may not be aware yet of the new equipment changes inside of Mayfair Company. Each ambulance is now equipped with a biophone similar to all the fire department rescue squads'. Is there any way the Navy can drop a buoy into the bay by helicopter to re-establish lost radio communications? That might speed up your search and rescue process on the missing Mayfair greatly."

##Thanks for the heads up, doctor. I'll..pass that along, a.s.a.p. USAR One, out.##

Smiling, Kel looked up again to see Liz wiping away the tears from Dixie's face.  
::I'm helping you, hon.:: he thought to McCall. ::Now we'll just find him a little faster.::

Early looked up from his current patient. "Kel, that was a sheer stroke of genius."

Brackett nodded. "Very nearly not. I remembered the Mayfair biocoms just now."

"Oh?"

"A few days ago, I answered an EMT who was calling me, using one, during a mock exercise, "treating" Gage. It had a different channel signature." Brackett replied. "Let's hope the Navy isn't too overwhelmed and can still get on the ball."

"The Navy doesn't skimp on new ideas. Especially ones from other rescue personnel. They'll get things up and running before sundown I'd bet." Early grinned happily. "If Johnny's with it, he'll remember the new biophone, too."

"I sure hope so." Kel said. "For their sakes. All day is an awfully long time to be trapped when you're injured and possibly running out of air."

"Kel." Joe called out softly.

"What?"

"Be a raging optimist. Just this once." Dr. Early said, raising his eyebrows with conviction.

"I'll try to be. But I tell you, Joe, today is making that very difficult to do."  
Brackett grumbled. But he nodded in satisfaction when he saw Dixie McCall finally return back to work alongside of her new EMTs.

Robert clicked off his handy talkie that had connected him to the Navy ships arriving out in the bay. He had learned two things. No more tidal waves were expected and that a communications buoy launch was already underway. He could not wait to start trying to hail Mayfair Three when the Navymen's preparations were complete.

Robert Cooper dragged out his unit's mascot from his shirt pocket. It was a battered, heavily worn toy German Shepherd, wearing an army green blanket halter vest emblazoned with a fading painted red cross. It was a Cooper family heirloom, passed down through generations of combat medics and firefighters since World War Two. He set it up onto a rock near their rescue trucks where the others could see it as they hustled back and forth. Cooper jammed a small American flag on a stick into a crevasse next to the toy. Then he saluted both passionately. The other men knew that the plastic dog and flag would not be retrieved from their anchored places until every last victim, no matter how long it took, had been found. Whenever they passed the dog's rock, they either patted its head or kissed his wind waving flag.. for luck.

"All right. Let's get cracking. We've got a whole fallen bridge to scope out. I've already called in search dogs to assist. They are coming in from Santa Rosa County's Sheriff's Department with a few of their deputies. And they are well trained. They will be allowed free range once they get here. Watch for a change in their silent search behavior. They will begin to bark when they detect a live victim." Robert said over a loud speaker.

"Yes, sir." replied the USAR team.

Robert turned to Bob and Roy. "I'm giving you an hour to look for your Mayfair.  
You will stop if any of the rest of us finds a bridge victim who needs paramedic treatment before we fly them out of here."

"Understood." they replied.

"Use flares and hand signals to keep in touch until that Navy buoy's running hot." Cooper added. "Once it is, I'll notify you on your HTs. Oh, and one more thing.  
A doctor just called and he told me the ambulance has its own biocom equipment."

"That it does." Roy remembered happily. "I'll be sure to give them a hearty ring."  
he said, hanging onto the side chrome bar of Squad 51.

"You do that. Keep me posted." Captain Cooper said. Then he jogged away.

Roy DeSoto turned to Bob Bellingham as they both hurried into full life belts and lines, matching what they saw the USAR teams doing with gear of their own. "Grab two hundred footers for now?"

"And a stokes. We can use it to haul all the medical gear with us over the rubble. That'll be our mobile supply base." Bob suggested.

"Works for me. Let's go." said Roy, eyeing up the place where he saw EMT Mel Turner lying tarped covered on the beach. "I'm guessing Mayfair Three's got to be at least a hundred yards from the body. There wasn't enough time for Mel to run away any faster with the speed of that wave coming in."

"Didn't the tidal wave carry him in farther after he was killed?" Bellingham wondered.

"No. See all the short cliffs ringing the beach? They're acting like a barricade,  
keeping any and all bridge debris confined to the sand." DeSoto reasoned.

"Let's hope you're right."

"I've got to be."  
-

Photo: EMT Kate Brown on a Mayfair biophone.

Photo: EMT Liz Stanton talking no nonsense in Mayfair white.

Photo: Dixie McCall looking worn but brave.

Photo: A bloody yellow tag triage victim in close up.

Photo: A USAR rescue team setting up climbing ropes and belts.

Photo: Roy DeSoto watching a scene, uncertain.

Photo: USAR 103 logo, heavy truck.

Photo: The 51 gang setting up cliff climbing ropes and gear near the sea.

Photo: An ejected victim lying on the hood of a crushed car.

Photo: Close up of collapsed bridge debris in a pile.

**************************************************  
From: patti k () Subject: Up and Down... Sent:Sat 10/23/10 10:37 AM

Bellingham's eye fell on the expanse of space over the water where the bridge used to be. "Just how many cars do you think were on the tollway when the wave hit? That span over the bay was three quarters of a mile long."

Roy raised his helmeted head, considering the question.  
"Not too many. If we've learned anything about living where we do, it's how to flee during a disaster. My guess is that regular folks were keeping clear of the ocean after that first wave hit in its surprise wake up call. The only ones who were out here for the second, were emergency services." DeSoto replied. "And...I don't think anyone could have predicted how big that subsequent one was going to be." he swallowed sadly. "Ready?" he asked, checking and rechecking his confined space gear.

"Yeah. I think I've been ready since all the dogs started barking." Bob said, suddenly realizing that it was actually true.

"Let's hope they start barking again down there over somebody they find they still alive." Roy hoped.

"When will Santa Rosa actually get here?" Bellingham asked about the search dog teams.

"In about ten minutes. The National Guard is flying the deputies and their dogs to us." Roy replied. "I just heard." he said, jerking his gloved thumb over a shoulder.

Bellingham cocked his head at the sound of a scanner somebody had on in an opened rescue trailer. The dispatcher's trained, calm voice was calling out agency after agency to the areas of inundation up and down the California coast: Engine Companies, Aerial Ladder Truck Companies, Paramedic Squads, Lifeguard Ground Rescue Units,  
Baywatch boats, Swiftwater Rescue Teams, bulldozers and heavy equipment, Brush Fire Patrols, inflatable rescue boats teams, National Park Camp Crews, Hazmat Units, Mobile Lighting Units, Mobile Air Units and U.S. Navy Hovercraft units and then finally, FEMA's Command And Control Taskforce. ::It's really bad if the government overseer's being called in as an emergency service, too.:: he thought privately. He tried not to think about how many thousands of people had already perished. He stopped listening after the tidal surge totals being reported reached insane heights that boggled the mind; thirty eight, forty, forty five feet.. by trained spotters.

A whistle bleated a signal, one long blast followed by a short one, once.  
It broke Bob out of his mental whirlpool. He knew what the signal meant. ::Resume Operations? Finally...:: he thought with relief.

A crunch of glass on concrete made him lift his head in the sharp oil smoke tinged breeze. Bellingham nodded at his crewmate.

Roy already had one leg thrown over a guard rail, in a slow, active pursuit of the orange clad USAR search team of six, going with them. It would be USAR's job to test structures and identify survivable voids underneath what was left of the bridge's collapsed rubble above the water line. They would make sure those spaces had safe, existing atmospheres, free of hazards, in which to work. Navy divers would search for victims inside of accessible cars only when the receding tidal wave currents died off. "DeSoto entering hot zone." he radioed to the Safety Officer on the clifftop.

##DeSoto. Acknowledged entry. 15: 06.## said their sentry, watching them through binoculars.

A cloud passed overhead and startled Bellingham. The sun disappeared, leaving behind a dull gray morass over the depressing wreckage surrounding him. Brown tidal mist still hung in the air like a sludge. ::This is H*ll on Earth. I know it.:: thought Bob. ::High time for us to be angels for somebody. G*d, I hope it's soon.:: Calculations of the tonnage per square foot of falling rebar and steel beams under the effects of gravity made his mouth dry. ::I wish I didn't know so much about the dangers out here.::  
All around him, the creak of settling metal and concrete raised gooseflesh on his skin. He made triple sure that nothing structurally weak was hanging nearby or over his helmeted head.

Bellingham began concentrating on the ground immediately underneath where his next bootstep would land. "Bellingham entering hot zone."  
he transmitted.

##Bellingham. Acknowledged entry. 15: 07, mark. Good luck, 51.## replied the USAR man.

That brought tears to Bob's eyes. He took a deep breath above that first foot of violated concrete, and then he began carefully working with his long search probe.

Ahead of him, Roy was also measuring the earth in inches, his boots balancing only on safe broken road slabs like glue. He was doing the same kind of searching. "Johnny, we're coming." DeSoto whispered. "For once, I want to hear the sound of you complaining about everything."

USAR began shouting, calling for any victims trapped to respond in any way possible, over a megaphone. The two Station 51 paramedics knew the voices would not stop until a replyback sound of metal on rock or a verbal moan, was discovered.

Up at the USAR base of operations, Chet was beside himself with pacing.  
"Cap, do we have to take what Cooper said as a direct order?" The curly haired fireman had his helmet off, scratching dust and grit that was caked into his hair nervously, with a glove. Hank's grim face did not change where he stooped over a topographical map of the bridge's original, prefall orientation and the bay's physical depths and contours. "I'm afraid we do. He's right you know. On every count. We aren't trained for specialized collapse rescue work. When was the last time you remember crawling into a hole after a victim, Kelly? Answer me that." he gruffed.

Chet didn't reply.

"See? It was always Gage and DeSoto gaining that kind of experience.  
We were just support crew." Cap told him. "So now we are again. No shame in that. What we're doing is still very important."

Stoker jogged away from the Ward. "Cap, she's all set." he said of hoselines laid out and charged. "Hazmat's gonna use our tank for any victim decontamination washdowns if they're needed."

"Do you have a third out for any developing car fires?" Cap asked him.

"Yes. An inch and a half on a wye from the hydrant. It's still got pressure." Mike replied.

"Good man. Get back to the cliff and keep an eye on our two." Hank ordered.

Stoker all too willing, ran.

"Cap, can I-?"

"The answer's no, Chet. You're not going down there, even as a spotter. And I don't think Cooper will take kindly to us unauthorized, climbing anywhere near that pile! Just be happy we're here at all."

Marco came running back from a USAR tender squad. "I've got all our medical gear piled up with theirs including three stokes stretchers. I've marked our stuff with a lumber crayon and scene tape so they'll get back to us later."

Hank grunted in appreciation.

Kelly was getting anxious past the physical. "Cap, I wanna do something. I can't just sit here and-"

Hank cut off his protest in mid sentence.  
"Get on the squad's biophone. Set it to universal receive. Then start listening to all of its channels real hard, pal. Gage might be calling us even now. The Navy boys just dropped their buoy..." he said, squinting out to sea at the cutter anchored there. The hoisted flag of white and red going up on deck, was unmistakable.

"Best news I've heard all day." Kelly said, booking fast for Squad 51.

The reassuring crackle of naval and boat radio traffic out at sea returned to the Ward's broad band radio speakers soon after. Hank smiled. "Thank you, Corps of Engineers. I think I love you." He lifted his HT and hailed Bob and Roy. "Engine 51 to HTs 51. My communications out over the water have been re-established. Maintain an open channel with me."

##10-4.## the two paramedics replied.

Rosalie opened her eyes. Sleep had caught her unawares. She gasped but then relaxed at the reassuring sight of Johnny stretched out onto the rider bench, napping fitfully. The EKG monitor's audio on her heartbeat was calm and regular, softly toning normalcy. Arnold tried to stifle a gag when a wave of slight decay wafted to her from the front of the ambulance. She fought and won the battle over sympathetic nausea. She coughed,  
pulling off her oxygen mask.

Gage immediately sat up. "How are you feeling?" he asked, moving to her wrist for a subconscious skin and pulse check in the dim battery light.

"Better." she croaked. "I think we've got to move now, Johnny. His body's beginning to smell." she said, covering her nose.

Johnny turned off her oxygen's port at the wall.  
"We will. I've found a safe, dry place outside. The ceiling's a little low.  
But the void the ambulance is trapped in is big. Maybe fifty by a hundred feet. I think two bridge towers came down and tented above us like a steeple. We're still on the roadway at mile marker point five. I found its sign a few hours ago."

"A few hours ago? What...time is it now?" she asked, reaching for a glass of water and a straw from the table counter next to the stretcher. "Why did you let me sleep so long?"

He ignored her last question.  
"It's the start of the night. Seven thirty by my watch." he said, checking her I.V.'s slowing drip.

Arnold got excited.  
"They'll have light towers running by now! Did you see anything out there?"  
Arnold said, shifting a spent ice pack that had been resting over the bruise on her chest to the floor. She switched it out for a new one that Johnny handed to her.

"Not a flicker. We must be under a pancake of debris that's pretty thick."

"But where's all our air flow coming from?" she asked, rewrapping up in her blankets warmly.

"I haven't figured that out yet. Maybe if you're feeling up to it, I can D/C your fluid line and we can go exploring together a little. It's not like we have anything else better to do." he shrugged. "But first I want to listen to your heart to see how it's doing." he said, snatching for a stethoscope.

"Why? Something wrong with it?" she grinned. "If it's beating fast, it's because I'm falling in love with you, Johnny Gage."

He just smirked. "No, it.. I.. just didn't do it earlier. I like to be thorough.  
And for your information, the feeling's mutual."

"Mutual what? Munchausen's syndromes? I'll say we're sick, Johnny boy. Sick in love. Face it." she teased. "My much fussed over myocardial tissue is doing just fine, Mr. Paramedic. " she said, smiling happily, her stretching fingers arching gracefully as she worked the kinks out of her sore muscles. She gently plucked the stethoscope from around his neck and tossed it back onto the rider bench. Then she kissed his cheek gratefully. "Really.." she said.

Gage couldn't help but be infected by her enthusiasm. He straightened up, blushing. "Okay. Uh,..I'm reassured? How about getting some warmer clothes on, we'll go spelunking."

"I'm game. I think I know where some extra flashlights are."

But Johnny wasn't listening to her. He was fussing with her intravenous saline bag. "Hmm, this thing's just about dry." he said, defting ripping out her I.V. catheter and replacing it with a tape pressed two by two gauze square a second later. She didn't even have time to yelp. "Hold onto this for a minute or two." he ordered.

"Ow?" she peeped, mock wounded, staring at him with a half grin.

Johnny pursed his lips in mild annoyance.  
"Oh, that didn't hurt. Knowing you, it itched a little. Rosalie, think about it. We have to find a way out of this rat trap before high tide."

Rosalie's face quickly turned serious. "Did we fall that far down into the bay?"

"I don't know. We won't know the answer to that one until our feet start to get wet." he replied honestly. "I'll get us packed. The sooner we leave, the better."  
-

Photo: USAR firefighter preparing protection gear.

Photo: USAR searchers moving into a crevasse.

Photo: Chet anxious, by the squad in his turnout jacket.

Photo: Roy and Cap looking down worriedly in helmets.

Photo: A pancaked collapsed bridge and downed road signs.

Photo: Rosalie Arnold resting comfortably.

Photo: Johnny Gage fussing by a trauma box.

From:patti k () Sent: Mon 10/25/10 1:33 AM Subject: Rats In A Maze..

Johnny helped Rosalie step down from the back door of the ambulance.  
"Zip up your jacket. You were almost dead five hours ago." he chided,  
handing off a flashlight so she could see where to place her feet.

"Almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades." Arnold chuckled.  
"I'm fine, Johnny. I'm actually still roasting. You had the heat cranked up full blast over my stretcher all day." she complained, leaving her white EMT uniform jacket unfastened.  
"You needed it." he shrugged, flashing his light's beam around to reorient himself to their surroundings outside of the ambulance in the damp darkness.

"Not anymore. I'm really glad I'm out in the fresh, cooler air." she sighed.

"Yeah? Well, actually, the freshest we have is still in there. I've decided to drain the master oxygen cylinder out." he said, jerking a finger at the shadowed ambulance behind them.

"You left it on?" Rosalie asked, wondering about the wisdom of doing that.

"Yeah. A slow leak. If USAR sniffs around for gas traces, they'll find the higher oxygen levels down here and know they've hit somewhere near the ambulance and maybe they'll think possible survivors. I spray painted an arrow on the door with the universal orange showing the direction we're going to be headed into just in case they break through after we're gone."

Rosalie saw the symbol on the side of the door he had made which included their initials, the oxygen tank hazard and the one dead/one injured/two survivors count and the time they left the Mayfair's shelter. "I sure hope you turned the main battery switch off."

"Yes. The Mayfair's powered down. Nothing's going to catch on fire. We may need to come back for some more things later." Gage said as he picked his way carefully past twisted rebar and tilted asphalt around the rear bumper of the ambulance. He yanked open a tall side compartment door on the Mayfair and retrieved two halves of a scoop stretcher. "Well, all right! The second good thing to finally go our way."

"What was the first thing?" she joked.

"You. Deciding to breathe again." he said archly.

Rosalie snorted low in her throat at his comment, dismissing it as banal.

Johnny laid the aluminum halves of the scoop on the rocks at his feet. "We can use this to pull our food and supplies along with us."

Arnold shivered when she saw the rumpled sheets on the cot where she had lain, fighting for her life. There was still a dried blood stain where her I.V. had been started on her arm. Mad at her reaction, she kicked the base bed lever bar once until the head of the stretcher popped down to flat level. Then she unlocked its wheels and shoved it out of her sight into the darkness, and away from their scavenging areas with a hefty push. It clattered towards the front of the cab noisily. "Stupid thing!" she hissed. "What should we grab out?" she asked, aiming her flashlight around the dark interior of the ambulance.

Behind her, Johnny grinned and pretended he didn't notice her little fit.  
"What we know. Say... medical gear enough for an unknown house call." he suggested, reaching into the ambulance to retrieve portable gear. "The trauma and I.V. bags, the ekg monitor, the defib, a small O2 tank, splints, blankets.."

"You're expecting to run into other victims." Rosalie guessed. She knelt down and began to screw together the cylindrical nuts that assembled the scoop stretcher into a whole piece. Then she dusted off her hands and put on some heavy work gloves.

Johnny paused in his packing to start to knot together a rope drag harness.  
"Yes. I can't believe we're the only ones to survive the bridge collapse.  
Just look at all the open spaces down here. Oh, and just to tell ya, before you start poking around, everywhere's pretty much not safe. From what I could see of it." he grumbled. "Sharp pieces of metal, loose concrete, broken glass, spilled gasoline, oil,...splintered wood.." he ticked off on his fingers.

"Splintered wood? From what? I thought the highway bridge was all steel, wire and concr-." she broke off. Her flashlight found one such jagged point, a few inches from her left eye. She froze in place and cautiously started to scope out new looming obstacles that were surrounding her. "An ouch up here." she warned.

"I already know about that one. The wood's from all the boats and docks the waves pulverized on the way in." came Johnny's voice from the pool of light illuminating the loaded scoop stretcher as he pulled his own pair of work gloves on. "I'm finding us both a pair of safety goggles."

"I keep forgetting the power of moving water." Rosalie whispered.  
Then Arnold smelled something strong that was unmistakable. "Gage, I don't want to find anybody with a halo here. I'll just.. handle any breathing ones if that's okay with you."

"Sorry. I forgot to tell you. There's somebody else DOA nearby. Another soldier in a half submerged SUV. That odor's bowel."

Rosalie gagged, but then remembered her training to breathe through her mouth. It was several long moments before she opened her eyes again.

Gage asked a question at her extended silence. "You okay?"

"Yep. Reality just sunk in a little too much there." Rosalie squeaked. "This whole life after near death thing is a really heavy trip just by itself." she clarified.  
"I don't need to deal with facing every gory detail of the big disaster, too."

Johnny studied her face in his flashlight's glow. "Hey.. We're gonna get out of here. That's a fact." he promised. "I'll go first. All you've got to do is follow me. We've got to crawl into this one hole here to the left to head into the direction the air flow's coming from. Ah, I found them! Here. Put these safety goggles on and watch your head." he said getting down onto his hands and knees after slinging the rope harness tied to their equipment drag over a shoulder and across his chest. The light aluminum stretcher began to grind easily over the rubble and the sound of it echoed up high into an unseen yawning pitch black space above them. "And Rosalie, before you decide to turn superchick, I'm the only one who's gonna be dragging our stuff around, no ifs, ands, or buts about it." Johnny said no nonsense as he moved forward cautiously. She could see that his goggles were already steaming up from exertion as he looked around for the safest way to crawl through.

A sense of the ridiculous struck Arnold crazily.  
"Hmphh. Not much of a woman's libber, are you?" Rosalie argued, stashing the flashlight in her pocket while she ducked down to crawl in after the laden scoop stretcher being dragged behind Johnny.

"Huh? Did you say something?" Gage asked, turning around to face her, aiming his torch's beam her way.

Rosalie froze like a deer in headlights, half embarrassed.  
"Nothing much." she smirked. "I.. mumble odd things when I'm stressed." she shrugged, blowing through pursed lips.

"So do I." Johnny grinned, turning back around and heading into the jagged hole head first. "Careful now." he warned. Then he dramatically mock feigned getting his hand impaled on a wire that he was actually holding in between his fingers, making Rosalie laugh enough to forget her growing fears for a while.

It was ten minutes later when they sensed a large space opening up just ahead of them. Their flashlights could no longer make out any details along the vertical sides of their chaotic, broken path inside of the hole. Both Rosalie and Johnny began to smell blood. And sweat.

"Hey!" Johnny yelled. "Can anybody hear me?" He picked up a broken piece of pipe and whacked it on a stable steel girder next to him. *Bang!.. Ring. Bang!.. RiiIINNGggg...* it echoed. "Make a noise!" he shouted.

A soft muffled cry of a female voice bounced off of the rocks. Then it quit.

"Did you hear that?" Johnny asked as Rosalie rose up onto her feet beside him.

"Somebody's still alive!" Rosalie celebrated.

Sobs whispered in the silence, echoing and ghostly, almost like a dream.  
But the smell of injury remained, solidly grounding the hope of a nearby victim.

"I can't tell where they're coming from." Johnny whirled. He shouted again and signaled with the pipe.

The ragged voice didn't return a second time.

"Right. She was near enough to hear. Start a search pattern, but keep within sight of each other's flashlights. We can leave 2 x 2 gauze squares behind us in a trail as we go. If we get separated, back track immediately until you return to the scoop, then wait there. We'll meet up, then try again to find her." he said. "Don't do anything stupid."

"Ditto, mister man." said Rosalie, reaching into the trauma bag for her own box of pads. She one upped him by grabbing airway gear and more dressings before heading off cautiously, following the warm circle of her flashlight beam.

Johnny's circle of light drifted smaller and smaller to her right in an increasingly large but still buried tunnel like space. The ceiling was a massive jumble of green steel tower beams and tangled wire rope that was slanting lower and lower to the rocky floor of the fractured roadway. Then came the sound of flowing water. ::Uh oh.:: He got down onto his hands and knees and began crawling again. A rock gave way under a hand and it suddenly fell downwards and landed with a splash. Gage gasped and aimed his light in that direction.

He discovered a huge hole in the pavement in front of him where the midnight black ocean was upwelling into their tunnel. It was the source of the sharp air flow that they had detected near the Mayfair. He swiftly turned and chose a new direction, shouting. "Rosalie! Watch the asphalt roadway! There are breaches leading to open water. It's a long way down!"

A crash of falling rubble startled him. Arnold's light disappeared. "Rosalie?"

"Uh,, I found one." came her calm reply. "You can't see me because some dust rose up. *cough cough*. I'm heading back to the scoop. I don't feel safe going this way and besides that, I lost the smell of blood."

"So did I. Meet you there." Johnny puffed, worked up.

Over the reassuring pile of medical gear, Rosalie and Johnny took a break to drink some water from their bottles, leaning into the packs heavily. They cleaned off the grit on their goggles. "Dust masks from now on?" she asked.

"Yeah. That'd...be a really good idea. *cough*" Gage agreed. "I didn't think there'd be as much as there is."

Rosalie drained her bottle off. "Okay..let's go."

Gage nodded and they followed their first trail of 2 x 2's to a half way point. Then they split off into two directions around a large chunk of concrete and steel.

Arnold began shouting. "Light! I'm seeing light!"

Johnny quickly ran along her trail and met up with Arnold where she was sprawled in front of a low hole. The smell of blood grew stronger. He looked down the hole and spotted a figure in silhouette. It was sitting up. And it was female. "Hey! We're coming! Don't move." he ordered. Then he grabbed Arnold's arm. "We're going back for the scoop and gear. She's conscious. She can wait."

"But-"

"We can help her better if we're fully equipped. We don't know how many people are down there with her." Johnny reasoned.

Rosalie sighed and then together they both hurried back the way they had come.

Five minutes later, they were back at the new hole. The figure was still there.

Gage cautiously tested walls, floor and ceiling for stability using a long rod that he had found before he went inside.

The light's glow was coming from the sky in the center of a broken off bridge caisson tower many storeys above their heads. Rosalie and Johnny found themselves at the base of it, looking up.

The woman they sought was in a niche, staring up at the light, with her mangled legs stretched out before her like noodles. She was from the military and had tourniqueted herself around both legs around her thighs using whatever she had found with her; her belt and cloth from a ripped off sleeve.

"Oh my G*d." Arnold said and she immediately put on gloves to check the effectiveness of the bleeding controls in place. "These are holding, Johnny.  
She's got double comminuted femurs, both open." Arnold reported, slicing away the woman's pants legs with her EMT shears.

"Okay, check her next for other wounds and stop any bad bleeding. Ma'am.. Hey, we're here to help you." Gage said, grasping the sides of her head carefully to support her in her shocked state. "Can you hear me?"

At his touch, the woman sobbed and wilted limply backwards against his chest in a kind of weak dull relief. "..You're finally here.." she whispered, a cold sheen of perspiration coating her pale features. "Get them out of there. The sea's rising..." she sighed, trembling. Her finger pointed to a slab of concrete laying angled, newly fallen, directly in front of her. It was blocking the way into a new tunnel that was angled downwards towards the water that Rosalie and Johnny had just fled.

"Who? Who's down there?" Johnny asked.

"A van." she cried. "With a whole family in it." she sobbed.  
-

Photo: Rosalie smiling from an ambulance cot.

Photo: Johnny Gage looking focused and worried.

Photo: An aluminum scoop stretcher, half opened.

Photo: A pile of medical gear and a stethoscope.

Photo: The squad's medical gear boxes in their slots.

Photo: A female victim at the end of a long lit tunnel.

Photo: A jumble of concrete and steel on a large scale.

Photo: Medical people helping a hemorrhaging seated woman.

Photo: Johnny Gage ducking inside of a small hole.

Photo: A square of bloody gauze in closeup.

**************************************************  
From:patti k () Sent:Wed 10/27/10 10:44 AM Subject: Rescue...

"Are they awake?" Arnold asked the panting woman.

"Yes! They just can't get out. The doors are jammed!" she gasped.

Rosalie finished her fast sweep for injuries. "Johnny, it's just her legs. There's nothing else." she replied as pushed away the last of the woman's clothes that she had cut off. "No misalignments,  
no other bleeding." When she was through examining everywhere,  
she stretched out a couple of warm blankets, one on the ground, and the other around their patient, snugly. "She's clear."

Johnny nodded.  
"Start her on O2. I'm going to lay her down flat. Her pressure's dropping." Gage said as the woman's eyes began to roll upward.

"Please!" begged the soldier woman.

"Shh, easy. Easy. We'll get there. Even if the water's high, the van will float for a time. It's seawater."Johnny shared. "What's your name? Can you tell me that?"

"I'm...Karen. Third division, with 109's. Serial numberrrr-" she slurred,  
growing groggy.

Rosaline interrupted urgently.  
"What happened to you? Do you remember?" Arnold asked, wondering about what had caused such serious fractures of her upper legs.

"I... fell." she whispered through the oxygen mask.

"From up there?" Rosalie asked, peering up at the tiny circle of light visible at the top of the shattered caisson tower. She could just barely make out a length of military issue rope tied off to a secured carabiner above their heads.

Karen nodded, trying to relax her shivering body. "Trying to climb for help. I...think my rope broke on...something sharp." Karen told them. She shut her eyes as she began to feel her broken thighs. She cried out.

"Easy. Try not to move your legs." Gage told her firmly.  
Johnny uncovered one of the woman's arms, dragging a pack closer.  
"We'll give you something for the pain right now. But I need to start an I.V. on you first." Johnny told her as Arnold quickly checked the for pulses in both of the woman's bare feet. She nodded to Gage about intact circulation remaining in the limbs.

"Okay..." the soldier mumbled. "Guess I lost some blood."

"Not too much. You did a good job with these partial tourniquets. How far did you fall?" he asked, very concerned about major internal injuries from such an impact.

"Not ...too far, thankfully." Karen joked weakly. "Maybe fifteen feet."

"Did you hit your head?" Gage asked, swabbing down a place on the inner bend of the woman's arm and elbow.

"No." Karen said dully. "It's only...these legs. How..how bad am I?"

"You're doing fine here, Karen. Neither femoral artery's been torn."  
Gage told her, glancing at the shattered bone ends he could see through her ripped skin. "But you might come out of this a few inches shorter after the doctors are through with you." he joked.

"Wonderful. Knocked down below five foot two." she grinned weakily.

"You'll walk again if you're stubborn." Johnny smiled, quickly getting an I.V. flow. "Rosalie, tape this off." he said, snatching for the drug box.  
"Karen, I'm going to be giving you some morphine,..M.S. Are you allergic to any medications?"

"..no.." she hissed, jerking as her injured legs' muscles began to spasm. She screamed.

"Hold her down." Johnny told Rosalie. "Karen? Karen, give this a minute or two. It'll start to work immediately." Gage promised as he drew up a correct ten milligram dose from an ampoule. He slowly introduced just part of the narcotic into a rubber port on her I.V. line through the needle, carefully leaving the whole impaled syringe dangling there for later use. "How's that?" he asked, returning a glance to her face.

Karen sighed, sobbing in relief. Frightened tears stained her dusty cheeks.  
"...better. It's better." she said, finally going limp.

"Good... Rosalie, watch her breathing." Johnny told Arnold. Then he turned back to grasp one of Karen's cold hands. "Karen, can you still hear me?"

The injured woman opened suddenly sleepy eyes.

"Rosalie's going to be staying with you while I check out that family. If the pain gets worse, let her know, and she'll give you more pain killer a half a milligram at a time until it backs down again, okay?" he said, both sharing his care plan and giving orders to Arnold.

The soldier woman nodded.

Rosalie smiled as Karen's panting died away from its desperate pace and began to even out into normal. "I'll get some vitals and splint her up to get her legs off all this cold ground."

"Good deal." said Johnny, grabbing both of their flashlights. He also snatched up the rope drag harness and the pipe. He took a few seconds to pound its thin metal into a wedge at one end with a heavy piece of steel to make an improvised prybar. He gave Rosalie and Karen one last look. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

Gage shoved the fallen slab blocking the second hole aside and began to crawl quickly towards the sound of rushing water.

"Be careful." Rosalie called out after him.

"I'll tie off a life line to something solid before I get wet." he promised.

Alone inside the new tunnel, Johnny began to pant with exertion as he worked around boulders of asphalt and wire. Then he caught sight of the van. Its front tires were still hanging on to a grossly tilted chunk of pavement. The rest of it was beginning to bob in the rising tide underneath it. "Hey! Can anybody hear me in there?" he shouted across the roiling pool of seawater separating them.

A silhouette of an old man's face briefly flashed in one of the van's cracked side windows. He was wet and pounding frantically and screaming through the glass he could not break the rest of the way.

Johnny sprang into action. He tied off his rope to a grid of firm rebar poking through some shattered concrete and slipped into the water, lunging for the van with his made pipe tool, from the sides of the pool. He banged on the door of the van to alert the family inside that he was there. He looped off another section of his waist tied rope to a door handle on the van to use it as a butt sling. Then he placed both feet onto the sides of the chassis using it as leverage and jammed the bar into the sliding hatch crack just above the door's securing latch.

With a powerful grunt, he wrenched the sliding door ajar. He pulled it open and a rush of water from inside gushed out. "How many?" he shouted over the noise of the violent waves around them. He tossed the tool back into the tunnel through which he had arrived.

"Three. My wife and I. Get my nephew Joshua. He can't swim!"

"Is anybody hurt?" Gage yelled.

"No!"

"Grab this rope end and tie yourselves to it! After I get him to safety, I'll pull the rest of you across!" Johnny told him, swiping away waves of water that were hitting him in the face.

The nearly crushed van lurched and submerged a little deeper with a horrible groan of sliding metal as the tide began to float it off the pavement underneath it. Johnny and the old man gripped the door frame reflexively until it jolted just as quickly to halt.

"Hurry!" Gage told him. "The tide's rising fast!"

Nodding, the old man reached into the darkness behind him and thrust a young, frightened boy of ten into Johnny's arms. "My name's Johnny.  
I'm gonna get you out of here! But you're going to have to hang onto me.  
Hang on real tight!" he told the child.

Scared, the boy just clung and choked as waves struck him repeatedly in the face. Johnny locked the fingers of one hand on the boy's shirt and bodily lifted him higher so he could breathe again. "Cough it out!" he shouted. The boy finally got in a few good gasps. "Better?"

The nephew nodded, instinctively knowing what to do next.

"Don't let go!" Gage told him as he felt the boy grab him around the neck and start to float behind his back. Johnny reached behind for the rope and began to pull himself and the boy back across the pool to the safety of the tunnel hole, partially swimming, partially dragging. He got the boy to the edge of the pool. "Climb up there and crawl to the very end, to my partner! She'll take care of you. I'll go back for your aunt and uncle!"

Once he pushed the boy's rear into the dark hole he quickly returned to the van to repeat the whole process. He wasn't surprised to see the old man tying off his wife to Johnny's safety line first. "Ma'am?  
Can you swim?"

"Yes." said the sixty something year old aunt.

"Okay, follow me." Johnny said. "There's a tunnel on the other side of the pool!" he said, spitting seawater out of his mouth that was getting tossed at his face.

Gage got the woman across and safely headed up the tunnel.

He was about to lunge back for the van when it jerked sharply downwards. The roof frame of the open hatch hit the old man on the head and he was knocked out and shoved underwater as the van suddenly and violently sank. "No!" Johnny shouted,  
taking a deep breath of air.

He dove deep underwater to pursue it and his last victim.

The edge of metal he snatched for slipped through his cold numbed fingers and suddenly disappeared into the murk.

Johnny began to struggle downwards even harder to catch up.  
He had no idea how deep the bay was beneath him. ::He's gonna die if I don't-..:: A deep rending roar belched underwater as a chunk of bridge debris, dislodged by the falling van, struck Johnny full in the stomach, bearing him downwards, in mid thought.

Gage was carried quickly into the depths helplessly, his mind doing a mental scream.  
-

Photo: Gage reaching down a narrow tunnel underground.

Photo: A blue van sinking in oceanwater.

Photo: Gage rescuing a boy with a rope in fast moving water.

Photo: The looming roof of a highway bridge.

Photo: Rosalie EMT, worried in close up.

Photo: An I.V. medication being injected into an arm.

Photo: A half conscious woman being airway supported by blood stained hands.

Photo: Johnny Gage trapped underwater. Head shot.

**************************************************  
From:patti k ()  
Sent:Thu 10/28/10 12:19 AM Subject: By Any Means Necessary...

"Johnny?" Roy shouted, shooting bolt upright from a sound sleep in the R&R tent at Staging. He was filled with a nameless terror.  
Perspiration rolled copiously down his face in rivers. His heart was still thudding in his chest as awareness slowly returned.

Craig Brice was in mid sip when he locked his hand to prevent getting a burn from his hot coffee at the loud shout. He looked up in mild surprise.

Bob Bellingham slid over to sit on the side of DeSoto's cot. "Hey,  
easy, Big Guy. We may be living a nightmare, but you don't have to dream one, too." he joked, offering Roy a chilled canteen.

It took several seconds for Roy to remember where he was. "Oh.  
I'm still on break." he grunted.

"Here." said Bob, holding out the water patiently. He was very empathetic of Roy's emotional fallout and it showed on his dusty features.

DeSoto took it as soon as he was able. "Sorry. I just got the most horrible feeling, you know?" He drank deeply. "Thanks. I'm parched."

"That's why we're in here." Bellingham shrugged. "D*mned Safety Officers."  
Then he confessed truly what his opinion was. "I couldn't sleep either,.." he mumbled sympathetically. "..knowing what's out there." he said softly.

Roy found a towel and dried the cold sweat from his head and neck.  
He was still trembling in reaction to the dream. He looked up at the others.  
"Some days I feel like Johnny, about all the rules and regulations." he agreed, trying to smile, but failing. "The chief said we were getting tired. Yes. But more than usual?"

Brice set aside his coffee. "Battalion had a point. USAR personnel can spell each other on long term search and rescues. We can't. And we've been handling this disaster for fifteen hours straight now. Two hours of a rest period isn't that long of a time to wait." he remarked.

Roy glared at him. "Yes, it is." he frowned, his eyes going for the millionth time back to the sight of the brightly lit pile that used to be the Vincent Thomas Toll Bridge, glittering in the darkness. Even from the hilltop, Roy could see search dogs slowly picking their way back and forth across the rubble. "Every second feels like an eternity." DeSoto muttered dully,  
still shocked at the whole situation.

Craig, Bob and Roy turned suddenly at the sound of Dixie McCall's voice as it came closer, talking on a radio. "Yes, I'll tell them! Mayfair One, out."  
She hurried inside and suddenly they could see her. She spotted her target. "Roy.." she shouted softly so she wouldn't wake up other sleeping, off duty rescue workers. Her face was pale, drawn. But then she smiled.

DeSoto shot to his feet to join her. "What? Did they-" he began, anxious for news.

"Yes. They think they've found the ambulance." she said, hopeful.

"They think?" Brice asked.

"No." she corrected herself. "They know. They found a pocket of elevated oxygen levels. But.." she trailed off, her fortitude slipping.

"Dixie, whatever the news is, I'd like to hear it a.s.a.p." DeSoto said softly,  
taking her hand in a grip that showed her the depth of their long friendship.

McCall gave his fingers a little squeeze in gratitude as she finally looked up straight into his eyes with blue ones that were full and watery. "It's the... cadaver dogs. Both of them. They're on point over the same area."

DeSoto closed his eyes in surprise pain but he didn't move or let go,  
clutching her hand. He composed himself with an effort and smiled. "He's not dead, Dixie. He... I .. all of us at the station, we would know." he insisted. The doubt on his features was fiercely fought with faith in a mental battle. Then he gently fixed her running mascara with a couple of thumbs while he softly cradled her sculpted chin in his palms. "Don't give up. I'm not."

She sniffed and hugged his hand with hers and turned her cheek into their interlaced fingers. "All right." she sighed. He kissed the top of her head fiercely, fighting angry tears at his own fears. "It is too soon." she agreed.

Roy's resolve grew. "Come on, Bob. Let's go. It's been close enough to two hours in my book." DeSoto growled, striding for the MP guarded tent entrance.

"D*mn*d straight." Bellingham agreed, joining him eagerly, knowing what Roy was about to do. Swiftly, he gathered up both of their turnouts and radios and made a beeline after DeSoto's retreating back.

Dixie quickly left for another exit cleared for hospital staff and returned to Triage.

Nearby, Brice was still fingering his unvisited green triage tag. "Good luck." he said wistfully to his two stationmates. Then he rose from his chair to set a sudden plan in motion. He awakened Jon Baker, who had been asleep on a cot next to him. "Baker...Hey..."

"Huh?" Jon grunted, instantly alert but guarded. Jon sat up, already clutching his radio. "News?" the blond haired CHiP officer guessed.

Craig nodded solemnly.  
"Go find your partner, Poncherello. USAR's I.D.'d a positive dig site."

Jon grinned, big. "He'll be ecstatic! Early just cleared him as only superficial earlier this evening." He toggled his handy talkie. "Seven Mary Three and Four to Central."

##Go ahead, Mary Three.## replied their female dispatcher tiredly.

Jon winced for his coworker in sympathy, but not for long. He became all business. "Central, tell Sarge. We're 10-8 to the Bridge. The possible missing Mayfair has been tentatively located." he shared. He rushed off to tell Frank, who was in the Mess Hall, filling a newly hungry stomach.

Brice smiled and knew that their learning a final outcome, would just come that much faster, for the recruitment. "And I'm probably the last tag still waiting for a doctor. Oh, well. They can't miss what they don't see." he decided. He abandoned his coffee to go find Captain Stanley and the rest of the gang, currently relegated back to standby, to share Dixie's update from USAR.

DeSoto was six foot one inch tall. The MP never had a chance. Roy flashed him the authorization card hanging around his neck for only a few seconds.  
"Soldier, the two of us are leaving now. And nothing short of a bullet is going to stop us." he said, squaring off next to Bob Bellingham with folded arms.

The National Guardsman actually tried to bar their way. He didn't succeed.  
He was bowled over and elbow caught by the two of them and dragged along backwards to the Accountability table in the parking lot.

Roy and Bob arrived in front of an astonished African American firefighter handling personnel counts. They neatly spun their Guardsman escort around and brushed off invisible lint from his camo uniform's now rumpled and manhandled collar.

DeSoto smiled. "This fine gentleman will vouch for our slightly early release from the R&R tent. Isn't that right, lieutenant?" he said ingraciatingly.

The National Guardsman blinked. And then nodded when he felt Bob's expert paramedic fingers finding a potent nerve center in the small of his back in a subtle reminder. "Oh, yes. I concur most heartedly. *hmmphf!*."

The firefighter blinked back. Then he leaned forward over the table to look at Roy and Bob. "We all know who you are, 51. You can unmonkey the G.I. Joe. I personally know Johnny Gage. Go bring him home for all of us brothers. The log book will say you were actually here twenty minutes from now." he said, as muscle pulsed in his cheek from clenched teeth.

Roy's face stayed emotionless and very serious. He gestured at the fire fighter seated before them. "That's a good man, soldier. Learn to appreciate the strength of fire department loyalty." He shoved the Guardsman roughly over the table and let him go with an affectionate back pat. "No harm done. Just don't try to bend over and tie your shoes for an hour or so." he said about the nervelessness Bellingham had inflicted upon him.

"Yes, sir." the MP whimpered, not moving from where he lay bent, belly down.

The firefighter sitting at the table just grinned down at him, doing knuckle spinning tricks with his pencil. He popped his gum at the Guard and waggled his eyebrows meaningfully. "A fire ain't the only place we bad at."

Roy and Bob ran for Squad 51. DeSoto had to fill the air with talking.  
"What'd you jab on him?"

Bob smiled grimly. "The kidney plexus. The man felt like he had to pee in the worst way."

"I do, too." DeSoto admitted, his nervousness and worry hitting new heights. "For real."

"A disposable urinal can's in the door pocket. I'll chuck it out the window afterwards." Bob promised, making sure he beat Roy to the driver's side door. "Gimme the keys."

Roy made a face, gripping them possessively.

"Ahh." he warned with an upright index finger. "Gimme the keys.." Bob said dangerously. "You know the rules. That's one fire department policy I'm not gonna bend."

Roy finally handed them over. "I just gotta find out about Johnny."  
he said, getting in and slamming the passenger door shut.

"We will, pal. By sun up. Or there's gonna be H*ll to pay." Bellingham promised. He flicked on their red lights and sirens and took off onto the main road leading north.

Jon Baker and Frank Poncherello ran for the two new motorcycles freshly assigned to them.

"Thank you Harlan, for pulling a few more strings." Frank grinned.  
Ponch looked at his partner. "Do you know the best way back to the bridge? I was kinda out of it this afternoon on the chopper flight into Triage."

"Like the back of my hand." Baker replied, pulling on his helmet even as he ripped off his M.D. cleared triage tag. "I know every back road and byway."

"Let's go." Frank said, doing the same thing. They cast the two tags over their shoulders without a second thought and let the wind take them as they took off into acceleration, heading north.

Dixie was passing the parking lot after returning from escorting a patient to an awaiting Mayfair ambulance for evacuation when she spotted the two CHiP officers flashing by her with lights and sirens. "Hey, wai-" she began. Then she saw the two officers abandoned triage tags and strings tumbling over her shoes. McCall picked them up and read them. She recognized Early's signature bullsh*tt*ng sign off on both of them to clear the officers sooner than the usual full day of observation process normally followed for vehicle accident victims. "I love you, Joe." she said happily, appreciating the clever wool that had been pulled over official eyes. She turned and watched the two highway patrol officers go with a hearty wave.  
"G*dspeed, EMTs." she wished them. "You know what to do. You're on your own now."

Photo: Roy, looking stunned after a nightmare.

Photo: Brice and Roy talking by the squad.

Photo: Dixie looking worried by a desk.

Photo: USAR workers zeroing in on a marked hole in rubble.

Photo: A search dog German Shepherd and his handler, climbing.

Photo: A cadaver dog on point in between two rocks.

Photo: CHiPs Ponch and Jon riding their motorcycles, Code 3.

Photo: Squad 51 responding at night, Code 3.

Photo: Spectators watching a bridge rescue in progress.

*****************************************************  
From:patti k () Sent:Thu 10/28/10 10:33 PM Subject: Brain Puke...

Dixie McCall looked down at her hands during a brief pause of activity in Triage and found that they were still shaking. ::What is the matter with me?:: she thought. ::I've eaten. I've had plenty of water. I've..I've had nothing but semi good news.. What the h*ll is it with me?:: she raged inside. :: I don't want to see Kel or Joe or Mike. I'm not tired... Maybe I could go to the bridge-:: Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp roiling spike in her emotions. Half memories of a horrifying long ago experience suddenly filled her mouth with acid. She staggered against the side of a parked refueling Mayfair as she was swept away by a sudden flashback...

Her neighbor's screams were filling her ears. The smell of mud, rot, and drowned house filled her nostrils. A college aged Dixie looked up again at the unforgiving newly cracked plaster ceiling. "Mary? Just hang on. I can't-" she doubled over at the pain of her broken arm and foot still pinned underneath the section of roof that had collapsed on top of her. She gritted her teeth. "I can't get myself free, but I know that help is coming! I can hear the sirens." Young Dixie gagged at the pain just yelling caused, still not understanding where the water came from that was seeping up her legs from the lower level of her apartment. ::A mudslide that broke a pipe?  
But it's a dry day outside!:: she puzzled. All the while she tried to understand what had hurt her, she tried to reach out to the woman she could hear next door.  
"Try to hold your head up a little high-"

A deep new roar of water noise that Dixie couldn't see from where she was trapped suddenly rose into an all encompassing din of rapids and snapping wood. Mary's cries abruptly cut off.

"Mary? Mary? Can you hear me?" Dixie cried out, panicking. "Mar-" Suddenly she knew. Her neighbor was not going to answer her anymore. She was dead.  
::She drowned?:: The realization struck her like a blow and her head dropped to the carpeting in a dead faint.

Just then, her front door was battered down by a Los Angeles County firefighter using an axe head as a battering ram. He saw McCall lying in her living room.  
"I found one! I think she's still alive!"

##Hurry up, HT 24. The dam's really starting to let loose!## came a reply from the fireman's rescue partner.

He ran inside and found Dixie's trapped leg. He quickly chopped it free and pulled her over his shoulder, not stopping to check for signs of life. "I'll meet you on the hill with a victim!" he radioed back. "She's about twenty one years of age."

Then he fled the rapidly flooding college house and was gone...

McCall returned suddenly to the present, gasping. She sagged down the side of the ambulance in total shock. "Mary?" she whispered. "I'm so sorry."

Paramedic Craig Brice was walking towards where the standby fire engines were idling to find his station's crew when he saw Dixie sitting on the ground in the darkness. "Miss McCall?" he asked, squinting in the dark as he crouched down near her. "Are you okay? Is something wrong?" He shielded his eyes from the glare of the patient care light that was still on inside of the door opened rig.

"I...don't know." Dixie said, looking up. Her face was a morass of tears. "I.. " Then she coughed wetly and wiped her nose. "Yes, Craig. I think I need...some help." she whispered, her face almost expressionless.

Brice turned on a flashlight and set it upright like a lantern in the grass. "Do you feel ill?" he asked, taking her wrist into his fingers for a pulse quality check.

McCall just blinked slowly. "Yeah. And more than just a little."

Craig glanced around for the EMTs or the National Guardsman assigned to the Mayfair Dixie was leaning against, but they weren't nearby.

"They're on break. This is Mayfair Eight. I made them go on R&R twenty minutes ago." she replied numbly.

"What happened to you just now?" Brice asked, sitting down next to her to look at her pupils with his penlight. "You're borderline shocky."

Dixie turned her head into the sour smelling night wind and finally blinked. "I was in a H*ll I thought I had come to terms with."

"A flashback?" he asked, counting her breathing rate with a glance.

She nodded dully. "I.. think so. I've...never had one before."

"Can I take your blood pressure? I can grab a kit out of the back." Brice asked, gesturing at the ambulance behind them. "I can grab out a bucket, too. You look like you're gonna puke, Miss McCall." He rose to his feet and nimbly jumped on board without using the bumper step up.

She groaned. "Oh, why don't you call people by their first names? It's annoying."

"It's not proper I believe, between colleagues. So, can I take a look at you?"  
Brice asked. "If you prefer, I can leave any doctors out of it." he dangled.

"Sure." she smiled weakly. "I know I can't go back to work yet." she analyzed. "Not like this. I'd probably kill somebody by making a wrong decision. Better safe than sorry. I've been telling that to my EMTs all day."

Craig shouted from the interior cab of the Mayfair where he was fishing around for things to care for Dixie. "You told me that, too, when I was a paramedic student."

Dixie scoffed, smiling. "It's good advice." she chuckled. "I was wondering why I've been seeming to wear my emotions on a sleeve lately. Think it's because this was waiting to hit me?"

"I won't know that.." Craig said, jumping back outside. "..until I've finished an examination to rule out any physical causes." He took her arm again. "Feeling lightheaded?"

"No, why?" she asked as he was taking her count again.

"Your radial pulse just disappeared. I think you'd better lie down on top of this blanket." he said, spreading the one had grabbed out from under his arm.

She sighed impatiently and did as he asked. "Just take it. I'm fine." she said irritably.

Craig grinned. "Quit being such a real life patient. You're lying just like they do."

Dixie grabbed the bucket he was offering her and rolled onto her side to fight some nausea that had been building.

Brice covered her up warmly except for an arm. "What's your history?" he asked,  
starting to take her blood pressure.

"Broken arm. Broken toe.. Ummmm... I'm still aging and..I've just started menopause."  
she said, daring him to comment on the last.

He didn't disappoint her. "That's not so remarkable. With an emergency this size, I've seen even guys screaming like girls."

She smacked him with her free hand.

"There we go. That's a little stronger. And your BP just shot up into the normal range again. I think your stomach'll follow in a few seconds, don't you think?" he asked, shoving his glasses up a little further onto his nose.

"Sneaky trick."

Brice laughed, looking up at the stars for a moment or two. "Ah,..You taught me that one. Feel proud."

"I'd feel better if I knew I could get through the next week without my own brain betraying me like it just did." she griped. "So what is it?"

"It was eighty over sixty. Now it's one thirty four... over ninety."

She knocked the bucket away. "No throwing up for me anymore."

"Did you tonight?"

"No. I was speaking figuratively." she scoffed mildly. "It's what my brain did to me, mentally a few minutes ago." Dixie rolled off her side and onto her back, accepting the coiled towel Brice curved around the top of her head to conserve some body heat where she lay under the open sky. "What time is it anyway?" she asked.

"Almost four a.m. The coldest part of the night." Craig replied, finally sitting back down onto his butt and folding his hands across his raised knees.

Dixie wiped some of the almost-a-blackout sweat off of her forehead with some fingers. She eyed him up afterwards, seriously.  
"Have..have you ever been in my shoes?" she asked, almost timidly.

"Ummm hmm." he nodded. "I've had flashbacks to some suppressed memories. And when it first happened, I was a basket case for about four hours. I found I just started crying as I suddenly remembered seventeen kids who died in my arms in the ER that I had blocked out in college while I was working as a nursing assistant in Burbank. I had to relive those moments conversation by conversation, word for word, all the smells, sights, and sounds of each, until they had passed me by. I didn't know I had even suppressed them until I experienced the flashback. I was working a ranch in the mountains that day and..I think it was triggered by my falling over a lost horse I had been looking for that I didn't see lying dead and frozen in the snow. I don't remember driving home. My mother said I just walked in the door and curled up onto the couch without answering any questions. All I remember of that is the fact that I was crying so hard, I had no voice left. My first conscious thought afterwards was seeing my mom handing me a cup of hot tea when it was over."

"Wow.." Dixie said. "That's quite a mental puke job."

Brice managed to look embarrassed. "Shh. Don't tell anyone. You're doing a whole lot better than I did for a first time, suffering a brain vomit. That flashback actually came three years after I had left that hospital job. I had just started going to school to become a firefighter with the department."

Dixie didn't smile. She was still scared for her own immediate sanity. "Do I need to talk to CISM?"

"Critical Incident Stress Management? I don't know. Is the flashback still going on?"

"No, I only feel like I was just there, emotionally." Dixie explained.

"Then what you do next is entirely up to you. I've done my job. You're not going to die on me here." Brice joked. McCall kept looking at the stars, noticing painfully that they still looked beautiful. "I don't know how to tell anyone. I don't think I could." she whispered.

Craig smiled down at her, rolling the BP cuff back up to put into its storage case. "Then you don't need to. Not yet anyway. My body picked the time that was right for me when I was ready to handle it. Just remember one thing if you're still afraid of seeing another flashback in the future. The past can't hurt you anymore, Dixie. It's over." he shrugged.

McCall smiled broadly, relaxing. "Hey, you used my first name."

"I guess I just did." Craig told her with a shy grin. "I guess that means we've just crossed the line and have finally become what I call best friends."

"Why? Is it because we each know a few dirty mental secrets about each other now?" Dixie giggled mischievously.

"No, it's because we cared enough to share." he replied offering her his canteen of hot coffee.

"Thanks, Craig." she said after sipping carefully from it.

"Anytime, Miss Mc- uh, Dixie."

"I'm gonna hold you to that." she warned about using her name.

Photo: L.A. at night from a hilltop.

Photo: A rear doors open Mayfair, empty.

Photo: Brice, smiling in the squad in closeup.

Photo: Dixie lying on the ground close up.

Photo: A paramedic taking a BP in an arm lying on pavement.

Photo: Night stars filling a sky.

***************************************************  
From:patti k () Sent:Fri 10/29/10 8:26 PM Subject: Fallout...

After answering an HT hail out of sight around the corner of the Mayfair to keep things quiet for Dixie, Brice carefully eyed up his first time hospital staff patient one more time visually, and let out a big sigh. "So.." Craig began. "Are you going to take a serious break or am I going to have to tie you up inside of that blanket?"

Dixie didn't answer, her features lax, but peaceful.

Craig frowned. He had only been away from her for a few seconds.  
Brice knelt down at her side and gently gripped her carotid pulse.  
It was normal. "Dixie?"

Her eyes shot open blearily, already bloodshot. "Hmm?"

Craig smiled. "Autograph the ground with your outline for six hours and I won't tag ya." he promised, trying a polite compliance technique.

Dixie's eyebrows rose even though her eyelids didn't. "I'm not planning on going anywhere if that's what you mean." she mumbled sleepily.

"OHHhhhh. Epic lie." chuckled Brice, pierced to the heart. "You're acting even more like a patient now."

"Am not." she said, making a face at him. "But I should get up and move to the R&R tent, I've still got to turn in my Head of Triage vest over to-"

"Oh, you mean this work vest?" he asked, holding up the bright emblazoned orange plastic shirt with a crooked finger.

Dixie's eyes widened in surprise. She checked her clothes out by lifting up the blanket. Her vest was indeed, very gone. She rolled her eyes in exasperation and let the blanket flap she was holding up drop again. "Feather fingers." she accused, thinking black thoughts.

"I got it off of you while you were 'dozing'." he explained, drawing finger quotes in the air around the word. "It was more like dead to the world on the one to ten scale of napping." he shared. He changed tact. "Why not stay here? It's decently out of the wind."

"Leave me your canteen of coffee and it's a deal." she said, wiggling eager gimme fingers at him.

Brice unslung it from over his head and a shoulder and handed it over.

McCall possessively snugged it under an armpit to benefit from its still radiant heat, and reclosed her eyes again.

Craig cocked his jaw at that, rose to his feet, crossed his arms, and just stood there until an eye on his patient finally peeked open in the hope that he had already gone. "Nailed. To. The. Earth." he emphasized to her with a firmly downward pointing finger.

She stuck her tongue out at him, but he remained, unwavering.  
Dixie finally flipped over and soon after, began snoring softly, for real, in scant seconds.

Shaking his head ruefully, Craig dropped an already filled out green triage tag onto a pillow that he had given her that she hadn't had the faculties to discover even being there under her head yet. Brice was convinced of her recovered emotional stability so he decided to go find Engine 51 to get recruited. "Might as well." Craig said softly. "The squad's gone." he mumbled in amusement. "They probably thought I'd be on the potentially injured medical observation list the full twenty four hours." He was doubly reassured when Dixie let loose a huge yawn and started rubbing her nose absently inside of a blanket hole that suddenly opened up to allow in fresh air.

Whistling without sound, Brice left to hand off the vest to the Chief Medical Officer and to file his latest report.

On his way, he shushed a noisy, returning group of firefighters as he pointed to Dixie's silhouette. They began tiptoeing dutifully past her,  
with very evident great respect for the plainly exhausted, sleeping nurse.

Ten minutes later, that buffering protective bubble was shredded by the livid voice of Kel Brackett, running up the hill. He was dragging a random first aid gopher by the ear. "The next time you learn that one of my hospital staff makes the triage list, I wanna know about it sooner than yesterday!" he roared.

The man attempted to stutter but Kel had already forgotten him.

"Dixie?" Kel shouted worriedly as he came closer to where she was. "D-"

McCall jerked upright in rude awakening, involuntarily throwing aside her warm, wooly world inside of the ambulance blanket. "What? Ohmyg*dthatwasloud." Her eyes struggled open. "Oh, it's you. I'm not your hospital staff, Kel, I'm your girlfriend." she glared, still startled greatly and quickly growing cranky. "I guess that makes a big difference in the Kel Brackett worry book department I see. What were you trying to do? Give me a heart attack?"

"Oh, honey, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?" he asked, feeling automatically for a brachial pulse. He frowned a few seconds after he touched her.  
"This is kinda fast."

"Small wonder." she spat.

"So are you?"

"Yes, and-" she broke off. "..no." she replied, suddenly noticing something on the ground near her. "Look what a paramedic did to me!" she commented, getting mad when she recognized Craig's writing on the triage tag that he had left behind, with her name on it in bold print, anyway. The bottom half was missing, already sent to the powers that be.

That second half was being clutched so tightly in between Dr. Brackett's fingers, that it was almost a crushed wad of unrecognizable paper. "Who was it?" he demanded.

His ire finally got on Dixie's still delicately unbalanced nerves. "Someone who took the proper steps, given an acute emergency, a pyschogenic reaction!" she snapped back, surprising even herself. "Wow, I must be better already. I'm defending my staff like usual." she muttered to herself.

"Pyschogenic?" Brackett ansed, fauning over her, with the doctor part of him fully forgotten. He gave her a quick hug of reassurance.

"Yes... Remember the day we met?" McCall asked, wrapping herself up again in her dropped blanket and his arms.

"How could I forget?"

"Well, apparently, neither could I." she grumbled, her lower lip quivering. "I felt completely helpless, Kel." she half sobbed. "And I couldn't stop it."  
she said, tears welling in her eyes.

Brackett apologized again and fussed with her blanket, pulling it up until it veiled her face like a shawl around her head for maximum warmth. He snapped his fingers at the long-time-doctor-suffering orderly who had been forced to come with him. The man dropped a very full and heavy advanced life support bag down onto the ground right next to Dr. Brackett, only staggering a little as he did so. He seemed very glad to be rid of its weight and out of Kel's direct attention sphere.

Dr. Brackett unzipped it, reached in, turned something on, and then trailed a cable and a set of alligator clips out to Dixie's fingers. "Here, put these on.  
Did you lose consciousness?" he asked, worried and hovering still.

"Kel." McCall groused. "I don't need an EKG.." she snorted.

"Just answer the d*mn*d question!" he punctuated, no nonsense.

Dixie considered, growing a little disturbed the more she thought about it. "Well, I don't know for sure. I can't remember certain parts.." she said truthfully.

"She was sleeping." said a new voice. It was Craig Brice, rejoining them. "With all due respect, sir. You're making enough noise to raise the dead. The red tags are hearing you." he explained.

"Brice, they don't care! They're too busy being half dead!" yelled Dr. Brackett. "Are you the paramedic who gave this to Nurse McCall?" he asked, holding up the green Triage tag.

Craig immediately blanched a fair shade of white. "Well, uh,..I-"

Kel's hand reached out slowly. "Great job!" the doctor smiled, enthusiastically shaking Brice's palm in vigorous gratitude. "I don't know how I'm ever gonna repay you for watching out for such a stubborn piece of female a-"

"Kel!" McCall blurted out, shocked and embarrassed.

"Well, it's true! You never take care of yourself when it's busy. And especially not when you're sick a-"

"..and DON'T know it?" she glared right back.

Brackett looked about ready to swallow his tongue. "...y-you didn't?.."  
he immediately simpered, in the tiniest voice he had, ansing nervous fingers.

Dixie's mouth narrowed into a firm line. "Brice thinks I had a nasty first time flashback. And I...I.. think he's right." she finished lamely.

Kel pouted his lips and re-gathered her into a deep hug, finally abandoning his medical pack's myriad devices and analyzing gear. "What of? Korea?"

"No, 1963."

"Oh."

"Did I ever tell you about that?" Dixie asked, warming her hands in his.

"Only when I dragged it out of you in the Triage they had set up after the dam had finished breaking." he replied. Then he looked up. "Orderly, you can go." he said crisply. "She's not downgrading."

The man melted away in the night's sea fog instantly.

All three of them did a double take at the speed of his hasty escape.

Dixie lifted up a finger. "Kel. Darling. Have you been abusing the rest of the staff in my absence?" she crooned, affectionately dangerous.

"Dix, it's only been about half an hour since I last saw you!" Brackett roared back.

"Uh, excuse me, Dr. Brackett, Dixie.. If everything's well in order.." Brice began, then he beat an even hastier retreat than the orderly, by becoming one with the fog, too.

Brackett turned to stare at the girl of his heart thoughtfully. "Did he just call you.. Dixie?" he wondered, pointing in Craig's direction.

"Well, yes. I guess my Mayfair company training's starting to work. You know, open door policy in all friendship.." she said, not meeting his eyes.

"Dix. Shut up. He doesn't work for you, I read the roster."

"Oh. Sorry." she said, hiding under her blanket.

"You lie like a carpet!"

"No, I lie like a patient, according to Brice." corrected the lump.

"Lie down!" he ordered with a ground pointing index finger.

The blanketed lump flattened out onto its back.

Kel was so mad, he couldn't laugh. At all. "Stop making up crazy stories to hide the details because I'll only find out about them from the shrink later on."

"A shrink?" the lump cried out in protest.

"Tell me about the one I missed or I'm gonna have to sedate you for your own good!" Brackett warned. "I can do that. I'm in charge of every patient in Triage. Guess who inherited the spot!" he glared, opening up his white coat, showing her the Head of Triage vest he had hastily thrown on underneath.

The lump peeked out, very meekly, and saw the evidence. Sighing, Dixie took in a deep breath, uncovered her head, and began telling him what had happened from the very beginning; from Moment One, when she had remembered the memory suppressed death of her best college friend, Mary.

"Kel." said Dr. Morton, tapping him on the shoulder to get his attention,  
back in Triage. "Kel.." he prompted again, tapping harder.

"Hmm?" Brackett acknowledged, looking away from the dry marker board that was surprisingly currently free of hanging red tags and their written out chief complaints and vital signs.

"What's the matter with Dixie?" Mike asked, looking as if Kel should have read his mind before he had to even utter the question in the first place.  
"I just found out about her a minute ago from Accounting." he said, holding up a chit copy of the green triage tag of Dixie's that had so alarmed Kel earlier.

"She's fine." Brackett shrugged, still studying the board.

"What do you mean she's fine?" Morton gruffed. "You can't make a solid enough diagnosis off a triage tag. These are just paramedic notes!"

Brackett merely smirked, and then he corrected his admirably fiery colleague. "Mike, calm down. Those are Brice's notes. Have you ever found him to be wrong about a patient's diagnosis before? About any patient's? Ever?"

"Oh. Well,.." Mike said, cowed and muttering under his breath. "The answer's-." he said reluctantly. He faintly shook his head from side to side.

"What did you say? I can't hear you." asked Brackett, cupping an ear into his hand.

"The answer's no!" Mike finally fessed up.

Brackett was good enough not to rub it in any farther. He merely beamed.  
"To answer your question, Nurse McCall will be fine after getting in a good measure of sleep. I left her where she was. She seemed comfortable enough. Now..," he said, turning back to the triage patient board. "Where were we?" he asked, rubbing his hands together.

"About to panic."

"Why- what now?" Kel asked, finally paying Dr. Morton his full undivided attention.

"Kel, I've just heard from the fire department dispatcher. There's another set of waves on the way in."

"When are they gonna hit?"

"Right now!"

Photo: Dixie looking vulnerable.

Photo: Dr. Brackett hugging Dixie McCall.

Photo: A set of green classified triage tags.

Photo: A fully loaded ALS medical bag.

Photo: EKG wires and electrodes.

Photo: Dr. Morton looking peeved.

Photo: Craig Brice looking on with appreciative shock.

Photo: A fifty foot tsunami making landfall as high as a skyscraper.

From:patti k () Sent:Wed 11/03/10 11:38 AM Subject: Physics...

Johnny was at the edge of consciousness. The gnarled tangle of steel rods that had struck him was bearing him deeper and deeper under the waves. He was near black out from holding his breath so long when the sea water surrounding him sloshed downwards, suddenly draining away, leaving him suspended in mid air at the end of his tied off safety line. He was jerked violently to a stop as gravity regained its hold. Gage yelled as the mass of debris with which he had been sinking heavily scraped his neck and chest as it was sucked down. It fell away from him with the last of the water, to land noisily on the soggy, suddenly exposed sea bottom six feet below him. ::The bay's receding again?:: he thought as his desperate, air hungry gasps filled his lungs with badly needed breath. ::There's another tidal wave coming!:: he realized.

Coughing, he glanced up and saw that the hole in the shattered bridge's roadway that he had fallen through was about fifteen feet over his head.

Johnny's foot struck something hard as he struggled to right himself on the rope. He looked down. He was suspended directly over the top of the van, left high and dry on the muck of the bay where suddenly stranded fish were flopping. He found purchase on the slippery metal and crouched down, using his lifebelt's carabiner to give him more slack. He pushed off the van and swung into the open door, reaching the boy's uncle, who also had been uncovered by the retreating water. "Hey! Can you hear me, mister? We've got to get out of here!"

The old man coughed, rolling over, spitting out a gout of water. Blood was streaming down his face from his scalp from the blow he had taken when the van had fallen into the bay. "What happened?" he asked, grabbing onto Johnny's gloved hand.

"The van fell because all the water in the bay's being pulled out to sea. There's another tsunami wave coming. I don't know how big! Grab onto me! We've got to be away from this van before the water rushes back."

"Uh.." the man groggily shook his wounded head. "How?"

"I'll hitch you to my belt with yours. We've got to be secured to each other or you'll get swept away. Come on! Hurry! Stand up so I can reach you." Gage said. He quickly shot a glance over his shoulder towards the open ocean side of the bay. The exposed shoals he could see way out had stopped growing in height from sinking water levels. ::That's it. Grace period's over.:: he thought as he frantically got his victim roped tightly to himself. "Wrap your legs around me once we get back on top of the roof. Then brace yourself! After the water hits, we're gonna be jerked sideways towards land. Kick as hard as you can, we've got to hang onto the rope!"

"How are we gonna get back up to the bridge?" he asked, frightened,  
but moving to help Johnny as quickly as he could with shock trembling fingers.

"We'll just float back up until we reach the edge of the hole we fell through. I'll pull us in hand over hand. The only thing is we might be underwater for the worst of it as it passes by us."

"I'm...ready." the old man nodded, scared.

"I'll tell you when to start holding your breath! I will not lose hold of you. Okay,  
now start hyperventilating! It's almost here." Gage coughed, as a loud roaring noise of motion boiling water began to build out of the darkness. He, too,  
began to follow his own advice to save himself from drowning. "Breathe in and out as fast as you can to build up the oxygen in your blood."

"But.." the old man began.

"Just do it!" Gage urged, sucking in and blowing out huge lungfuls of air quickly. "I don't know how long we'll be under the tidal wave before I can get us to the surface again."

The old man started to imitate Johnny, scared witless.

Johnny sat on the roof and wrapped his legs around the old man's waist, locking his ankles together. "Hang on! Okay, hold it now!" Gage screamed, sucking in one last breath desperately.

The thunderous barely seen monster of a wave struck both of them off the van with a powerful force and velocity, driving both beneath creamy brown froth as it surged inland as a cresting wedge of destruction. But the rope held, biting painfully into both of their waists and ribs where it was tied into harnesses. Johnny opened his eyes and waited for the remorseless tug of the water to lessen enough for swimming.

He saw the old man was beginning to panic so he clamped his glove down tightly over his nose and mouth to prevent him from inhaling too soon. Then he started kicking back towards the sky through the fast ripping current. His head broke the surface and he whirled the two of them facing towards the land to win space enough for breathing as the surge of water continued to well up over the back of their heads in the rapids. "Breathe!" he coughed, letting go of the uncle's face.

The old man did, choking violently on the water that did get into his lungs when the wave initially struck.

"You're doing fine. Just keep kicking." Gage said, tilting up his chin.  
They were rising. The bottom of the bridge was rushing down to meet them. Johnny quickly unclamped his legs from around the old man and concentrated on taking up rope foot by foot to drag them closer to the breach in the roadway deck above them. He didn't have to try for long.

The power of the wave lifted them up easily and slapped them back inside of the bridge through the hole like flotsam. Johnny snatched for the steel bar his safety line was attached to and soon, they both were out of the water and lying at the edge of the hole that led down into the bay's new depths. The water was still welling higher from below, beginning to cover up the flat surfaces of the shattered roadway fragment they were on.

"Come on.." Johnny urged to his victim. "We've got to get out of this void. We don't have much time. It's gonna fill up with water, fast. Your nephew's waiting up there in that tunnel. Crawl ahead of me!" he said, pushing the old man out of the water. "We've got to get up higher. A lot higher!"

The uncle was in pain from his head but he obeyed with the desperation of a man separated unwillingly from family. "Joshua! Stay with your aunt!  
We're *cough* coming! It's too dangerous down here!"

Gage shouted. "Rosalie! Shine some light down to us! I can't see the way up! A new wave's begun burying the bridge!"

Arnold heard Johnny's cry. She frantically dug around the scoop stretcher's gear for torches but then remembered that Johnny had taken both down with him into the tunnel leading to the van's victims. She grabbed out a cherry flare, pulled its ignition tab and tossed it down after a warning. "Lit flare!" she shouted.

Gage peered up into the blackness above him as he half dragged the groggy old man up with him and out of the water that was lapping at and chasing their feet. He heard a bounce and saw a red glow to his left. "I see it!" Gasping, inch by inch, they escaped the rising seawater by fleeing up the tunnel on their elbows and stomachs.

When Johnny was sure of his direction he tossed the flare back over themselves to extinguish it safely in the water behind them.

Rosalie met them at the entrance to the hole. The uncle was swarmed by Joshua and his aunt.

"Bernie! Are you okay?" she sobbed, hugging him, her eyes growing big at the sight of the blood still dripping down his face.

"I'm fine." he gasped. "Still got my glasses in your zipper pocket?" he joked.

"Thank you for saving my uncle." Joshua said tearfully to Gage.

"Any time, kid. *cough*" Johnny unbelted himself from the old man and tumbled onto his back in utter exhaustion. "Rosalie..."  
he began.

"Yeah, I know." Arnold replied. "Stop the bleeding and start him on O2." she said about the uncle's start of care.

"How's Karen doing?" Gage asked next.

"She's sleeping. I gave her one mil more of M.S. Her respiratory rate's shallow but adequate."

"Vitals?"

"Her BP's holding at seventy systolic. I've kept her I.V. wide open.  
Pulse rate is slowing down. It's 90."

"That's good. We're finally replacing her lost blood volume." Johnny said,  
staring up into the dim nighttime sky he could see way up in the top of the caisson's bridge tower. "The uncle was struck by the van's frame when it fell underwater. He was knocked out for a minute or so. He may have ingested and inhaled some seawater into both lungs."

"How about you? Your shirt's bloody." Rosalie said, introducing the sitting, fast breathing old man to an oxygen mask.

"Huh?" Gage said, picking up his head from where he lay, soggy and worn out. "Oh, that. Just a few scrapes. The bridge tried to flatten me with a chunk of debris, but the new tidal wave changed its mind. I was very happy with that turn of events."

"How bad is it out there?" Arnold asked as the noise of the third tsunami wave slowly grew audible from the outside through the stone.

"The wave's higher than we are right now." Gage admitted. "But air pressure will keep the water from leaving that lower tunnel. It's acting like a diving bell. We're safe enough inside of this tower base. All the water will just flow around us. It won't be strong enough to break down the walls in here. Everything's reinforced concrete."  
He sat up and began to take stock of his injuries, with a groan.

He looked down when he felt a tug on his wet mud stained sleeve.  
It was Joshua. "Mister, can you get us out of here? Rosalie said that the other lady fell trying to get help."

"I'll find a way, Joshua. I promise. There are people I know outside right now looking for all of us." Johnny said to the blanket wrapped boy.  
He began shivering and inherited one of his own when Arnold recognized symptoms of delayed shock.

"Mummify yourself." she said no nonsense as she began to take a blood pressure on the uncle who was staring off into space. "I'll take a look at you next as soon as I finish up here." she promised.

Gage looked up into the dawn brightening sky far above their heads and wondered what was happening on the rest of the pile.

-  
Photo: Water receding in a bay.

Photo: Gage soaked, caring for someone.

Photo: An old man wearing an oxygen mask.

Photo: A tiny hole at the top of a tower.

Photo: A large tsunami, pulverizing a beachfront.

From:patti k () Sent:Thu 11/04/10 8:32 PM Subject: Aftermath...

**Warning**- Descriptions of a Graphic Nature within.

Three whistle blasts followed by a pause made every head in USAR whip up towards the horizon. Robert Cooper lifted his HT set to global broadcast. "Evacuate! Tidal wave warning! Inbound in six minutes! Everybody off the site!" The triple emergency signal and pauses continued, being blown by the Communications Officer who was now standing on the cliffs in full alert to the rest of the team.

One USAR fireman swore, nervously rubber necking the skyline out to sea. "Why didn't the search dogs start barking at this?"

A Santa Rosa County sheriff, running across the debris with him for the path up, jump by jump, replied. "Because they're trained to only bark when they find somebody.  
Come on, Duke, we're heading for your crate. Heel to me!" he shouted. A big black German Shepherd whined, but obeyed, returning to his handler who snapped on a follow lead to the dog's collar. The search dog wasn't that eager to leave the area he had been pointing out to the rescuers, in spite of other instincts screaming at him about the tidal wave. "Sorry, ya crazy pooch. I'm not gonna let a little obedience training kill ya." said the sheriff to his dog.

Robert Cooper was still coming over HT as the evacuation whistle signal continued to sound. "Anybody gonna be later than two getting back to base? Coast Guard chopper is standing by for emergency pickups! Shoot up a flare if so, and he'll come to pluck you off the bridge!" he bellowed, running for safety as he radioed. The second the USAR Captain made safe ground, he planted his feet, urging on those of his team who were still behind him with wide arm sweeps. "Let's move! Rush your butts!"

Seconds later, the last USAR fireman flashed by him, quickly regaining the top of the clifftops where they had established their base of operations.

"Accountability!" Robert yelled, expecting an immediate reply. He got one.

"That's everyone, sir!" replied that fire rescue officer.

"Are you sure?" Cooper shouted, demanding absolute accuracy as the bay's waters began to recede ominously below them right down to the debris scattered substrate. They could see several military vehicles and a blue civilian van sitting upright on the bay's exposed floor. The water retreated, leaving behind the wet, glistening bodies of dead, limb broken National Guardsmen and live, stranded fish.

"Doubly sure!" reported the man, holding up his slate full of red checks marking each safe return.

Cooper nodded, grim. "Count those fatalities, fireman. This may be the only chance we'll see them. USAR, take places overlooking the water! Eyeball every inch for survivors when it hits and after it hits! Remember where they end up! Our rescue plan dynamics are gonna change big time!"

The high white froth that had been building on the horizon far out to sea began to rear into a hideous brown curl of destruction and a terrifying din of grinding rocks and water began to roar in from the suddenly angry sea.

"Oh, my G*d. This one's higher than three storys." one USAR spotter estimated as the wave ate a deep channel buoy and its forty foot light aerial out in the bay. "Captain, are we still safe?" asked the man properly.

"We are." Robert replied. "Our elevation's 150 feet here. But I'm not so sure about any poor soul who's still stuck down there. The rest of the bridge is gonna fall." he said quietly as the giant third tsunami wave advanced inexorably.

Bob, Roy, Ponch and Jon all arrived to USAR's Base just in time to see the ocean utterly consume what was left of the bridge's shattered and partially debris buried roadway sections. All that was remaining standing were the splintered bases of the hollow bridge foundation caisson towers jutting up from the churning seawater.

Bellingham screeched Squad 51 to a halt next to the cliff's guard rail. He managed to grab onto DeSoto before he did the unthinkable by trying to head down to the already doomed beach. Roy shook his head in mute denial even as he ignored his coworker. "Oh, no no no no no." he pleaded, sickened. He immediately spied something in the water, way out. It was orange, white and boxy, bobbing around in the creamy brown froth.

"What?" Bob asked, still not seeing anything specific yet in his own mind blinding horror.

Then a nearby USAR fireman lookout pointed. "Look! There's the ambulance! It's been uncovered! It's floating free!"

Nauseated to the core, DeSoto felt Bob sit him down onto the guard rail as they both watched, unable to tear their eyes away from the sight of it. Tidal forces began to violently roll and tumble the front crushed Mayfair over and over, in and under the fast moving water on its way to the pounded shoreline already choked with hazards.

Roy felt a firm glove tightly grip his shoulder in support over his turnout jacket.  
When he looked up, he saw the same grim shock mirrored there in the face of Captain Stanley. "Don't think it, Roy. Because it will never happen this way, pal. Not like this."

"This one's bad, they're saying!" Morton hollered out to Kel Brackett in Triage.

"Do we need to evacuate? The L.A. Riverbed's just over there." Kel pointed.

"I've been reassured by the Fire Department. Nothing's gonna reach us short of a dam break."

Kel's face twitched at the analogy, remembering Dixie. "Okay. Let's keep our ears open. Once the wave dies down our red tag count's gonna soar back up again as new live ones are found by rescuers."

"The makeshift morgue in the colloseum's already packed, let's sure hope so."

"Are any of our yellow tags downgrading?" Brackett asked, grabbing for another clean gown and pair of gloves at the end of a patient row.

"No. They're all stable or getting better. Mayfair's already started moving them out." Morton replied, working steadily on an unconscious patient's exam.

Brackett felt the weight of command heavily on his shoulders. ::Dixie be glad you're sitting out this round. I have absolutely no idea how we're managing to cope with it all.:: he thought inwardly.

Near him, Joe Early was squatting on the ground, taking a short break to reorganize his cases' priorities by drowning out the noise with both of his hands held tightly over his ears. Brackett strode over to him and tapped him on the shoulder. "Joe?" he asked. "Do you need more people?"

Early blinked up at him, somber.  
"I need Dixie. She's the only one who can hold fifty patients' data inside of her head so easily. None of us can do that like she can." Dr. Early said, standing up again.

"Use your notes." Kel grinned. "That's what I'm doing." he said, holding up the chart tied to a hole he had punctured through a pocket of his white coat.

"I can't read fast enough to keep up." Joe shrugged. "I'm getting tired."

"I'm having the same problem. All three of us need more people." Kel pondered. "But Logistics is having trouble finding me additional medical personnel. Everybody's tied up."

"But where else are we going to find them? Shall we ask to recall Station 51 back to Triage?" Joe suggested.

"No. Try Station 10. I think they're still here, refueling. Captain Stanley and his men are needed at the bridge site. They're gonna be pounded the worst, cilivian casualty wise. Battalion just told me that whole bay's shorelines are some of the lowest in Torrance."

"Station Ten will work. Stone used to be a paramedic before he was promoted.  
That'll give us three ALS level workers if we also shanghai Squad Ten's pair." Joe suggested.

"Get them here, Joe." Brackett ordered. "Tell them why."

Morton shook his head ruefully. "If we're this busy with three doctors and a fleet of Mayfair EMTs at our disposal, I wonder how Rampart's coping with all of this mess." he commented, raising his eyebrows.

"Knowing Sharon.." said Brackett with a proud smile. "They're really going to be all over it. Of that I have no doubt."

At Rampart, Nurse Sharon Walters looked up at the next pair of Mayfair EMTs to wheel a patient in on a gurney. "We're full. There are no available rooms.  
Start lining them up in the hallways, out of the sun. We'll get people to them as soon as we can." she told all of the new arriving crews.

"For now, I want you to spread this change throughout your company. Follow this order yourselves. All EMTs are to start grabbing our surgical orderlies and have them stay, one each per unconscious patient, from now on. We have a crash cart in place, every ten gurneys, in every wing on all floors. And yes, we will be working resuscitations. We're in the hospital for Pete's sake." she said, anticipating a question from one of the newer EMTs waiting to enter from outside with a patient's gurney.

"We have the rest of our spare oxygen bottles clustered in racks in all of the nurse's stations if you need refills for any your victims. Leave your patient's paperwork under their pillows so we know where to find it. Oh, if anybody died on the way in, leave them covered up on the tarps along the wall outside. M.E. volunteers will take them away from the ambulance entrance to prevent the impediment of our casualty traffic flow. They're walking in by the dozens. Keep them coming, guys, smooth now!" the interim head nurse ordered. "Go! Go! Go!"

The last laden red triage tagged gurney disappeared into a freight elevator. Sharon Walters sighed and sat down on the simple wheeled stool she had positioned in front of the ambulance doors. She had a working scanner radio, a fire department HT and a red emergency house phone all tucked neatly out of the way inside of the drinking fountain within arms' reach. :: I wonder how long it'll be before I have to decide to put the whole hospital in lockdown. Dixie never told me what our maximum capacity point is.:: she thought. ::If it gets any worse crowd wise, riots are probably going to start to break out from green and yellow tags panicking in here trying to reach red tagged family or friends.::

She picked up a mic from a C.B. radio. "This is Rampart Base to CHiP Central.  
Do you read?"

##Rampart Base, this is the Highway Patrol Dispatcher. What can we do for you?##

"Crowd control. I'm planning ahead. Our last official bed filled fifteen minutes ago. Any suggestions?" Sharon asked.

##Hold on, Rampart. I'll get the Sarge. His name is Joseph Getrear.##

"10-4, I'll hold." replied Sharon, gripping the mic.

Soon, the California Highway Patrol Sergeant was on the channel. ##Rampart Hospital, understood about your security situation. We're under martial law so do what it takes to protect your patients and staff from anyone without a legitimate reason for being there. And that includes locking out just family looking for family. We're under emergency protocols county wide in all law enforcement, fire and medical facilities. I'll send three squad cars to form a police barricade at your Emergency entrance. Chain all your other doors shut, including the fire doors and start funneling people into that one direction so you can start to regain some measure of control until we get there. Don't hesitate to lock out everybody at the first sign of trouble. We'll be right there.## Getrear promised. ##Watch for Barry Baricza, Artie Grossman and Bonnie Clark.## he advised.

"Thank you, sergeant. I didn't know what else to do. Our own security's tied up being first aiders and the police aren't answering their phones anymore." Walters told him.

##That's because they're all outside handling situations in the field. You're doing fine, ma'am. I've been listening to your transmissions. Getraer out.##

Sharon sighed and set the C.B. mic aside reluctantly. It had felt really good to talk to someone who was in charge of managing personnel on the same level as she. ::He sounded cool as cookies. Can I imitate that?:: she wondered. ::I've just about run out of ideas here to cope with our casualty numbers.:: she thought to herself.

But then there was no more time to think. She flagged over an orderly just leaving the bathroom. "Before you return to your assigned duty, get on the intercom. We're entering physical lockdown. All exterior doors and windows. All except right there." she told him, stabbing a finger at the emergency entrance. "Make it happen."

"Yes, ma'am." he said, hurrying away.

Soon, Sharon heard the reassuring announcement of an action being taken to actually fix a problem before it began. ::Now what else can I do?:: she wondered. Then the lights flickered in the hospital just once, causing patients and already arrived visitors to exclaim in dismay. "Thank you. That was it. I need H-Vac to check on the secondary portable generators in case of a power out."  
she muttered. "And all elective surgeries need to be cancelled in favor of emergency ones from the outside."

Walters reached for the red phone in the water fountain's niche and began to dial the departments she needed to contact.

While she was doing that, a dull roar began to grow in the parking lot.

::Is that the third wave?:: she wondered, dropping the phone back onto its receiver.

Sharon ran for the door. The sound wasn't ocean water rushing up the freeway like it had been before. It was a mob of frantic people.

Walters grabbed a passing supply gopher by the arm. "Chain those doors! Now! There's a riot coming from the outside!" she ordered him.

Together, they punched the automatic doors shut by their trigger button and disabled the motion detectors and started getting ready to chain and padlock the outer ones firmly after shooing in a pair of fleeing medical personnel who were trying to make it back inside.

"Hurry!" Sharon told them. The big double paned glass doors on their velvet ropes swung shut just in the nick of time. Slightly hurt or not so hurt people in the crowd began to pound on or get shoved into the glass windows by others who were rushing the building.  
"Looters." she realized. She turned to the supplyman. "Go get me some big orderlies with muscles. They're gonna have to hold onto these doors so the chains won't break until the CHiPs get here!" Walters exclaimed.

A perceptive nurse manning Sharon's usual desk, already had it covered. "Doctor Black to the Ambulance Entrance. Doctor Black. Stat. I repeat, Doctor Black stat to the E.R. Doors. ## came her voice over the intercom.

Two burly security officers charged down a stairwell, one of them peeling off the bloody gloves that he had been wearing while caring for a child on an upper floor. They took Sharon's place holding the doors and doubly secured the door bars with their handcuffs.  
The glass windows were being rattled in their frames by the crush of unregulated people outside. Sharon backed away, flinching, and tripped over her wheeled stool. Her fall made her sit down on it, hard.

"Oh, my goodness." she gasped, when mud and blood covered handprints began appearing on the windows.

"How are we going to get Mayfair arriving patients in now?" asked the gopher when he suddenly returned with three helpers.

"We're gonna have to get creative, mister." Walters said, glancing up at the ceiling. ::Choppers to the roof? It's the only way.:: she realized.  
She snatched up the fire department HT again and started a new hail on the emergency channel, hailing for CA-2, to share the news that Rampart was entering a complete ground level lockdown.

The third wave was big, but it was also slow. Five minutes after it had arrived, the surge that had pushed onto the land and up river channels and into bays was already retreating back the way it had come.

The beach at the bridge site, had a new layer of destroyed city and marina on its now gray clay stained sands. Captain Cooper was issuing orders to his men. "Do not enter the new red zone until a thorough hazmat check is performed on all levels. There are ruptured gas pipes down there this time!" he yelled over a bullhorn towards all the USAR and assigned fire units.

It was true. Burning cars and flaming holes in the ground were springing up through the earth and bubbling in the newly raw, draining oceanwater paths.

It was all DeSoto could do to not anse at the barricade the Safety Officer was guarding until Hazmat determined where the new hazards were located using sniffers and careful observations.

The luckless Mayfair ambulance had been carried and perched on top of the remains of a crushed lifeguard tower lying collapsed on the sand. "Captain. What about over there? Looks safe enough.  
It's nowhere near those ruptured lines."

Robert scrutinized the line of sight from their position over to the Mayfair. "Okay. I agree. Go at a creeping crawl!" he warned, waving Bob, Roy and two USAR men under the safety barrier tape he was holding in a glove. "Get your answers fast and then get back here." he told them. "Wear full protective gear."

Swallowing dryness, Roy forced himself to just walk towards the Mayfair in a scba mask and air bottle with Bellingham. Hank urged them on,  
tossing them a prybar from his place next to Cooper. "Careful. Just one look. And pretend the oxygen cylinders in there are gonna blow,  
because they probably will." Stanley groused, worried. "They've been knocked around hard enough."

Roy took the front. Bob took the back. "There are search markings on the back!" he reported eagerly through his air mask. "J.G., R.A.  
and.. one dead."

DeSoto closed his eyes in relief even as he jammed his pry bar into the passenger door of the Mayfair. "Johnny Gage and Rosalie Arnold.  
They're still alive!" He wrenched the door open and a body fell out.

Nearby, one of the crated search dogs began to bark at the odor that exploded from it.

It hit the ground with a soggy splat, its trauma ravaged shell already cleared of entrails by the water. DeSoto was critical. "This is the National Guardsman. He's still in his uniform." he said quickly into his radio. He jogged back to help Bob where he was struggling to force open the rear doors. Together, they strained on the door crack with the prybar's wedge point until one door banged open to slap the side of the Mayfair as it swung off broken hinges.

The interior was completely empty. Not even a gurney remained.

Roy let out the breath he was holding. "They're not in here. And they couldn't have been washed out. The doors were locked." he said, eyeing up the mess the spilled soggy supplies had made. "And most of the medical gear's missing." he smiled in crazy hope.

"And I'm seeing food wrappers." Bob said, pointing at MRE foil floating around in the skin of gray water inside. "Let's get back to the green zone." Bellingham said. He looked over his shoulder at Hank and Robert standing fifty yards away and signalled zero casualties with his gloves and arms.

Roy nodded and together, they started heading carefully back to safety, retracing exactly, their first footsteps' path they had used, coming in.

Stanley dropped his head in relief and set his gloves onto his hips.

Robert glanced at him."If your two people got out, where did they go?"

Hank said. "Knowing Johnny, they went off to help somebody else who was stuck out there in that mess with them." he replied, ferally pleased on the lack of a known person body count.

Robert's eyes glittered, unreadable."There's no mess left, Captain Stanley.  
The bridge's completely gone." he said. "See? The fog's lifting."

Hank glanced out to sea and saw that it was entirely true. Only smooth open water greeted his eyes where the smashed Vincent Thomas Toll Bridge had been. "Oh, Gage." he whispered, tears filling his eyes as light from a morning sun began to rise over a debris choked sea.

Photo: A search dog moving over a debris field with its handler.

Photo: Two USAR rescuers looking up on a clifftop.

Animation: An ocean wave sweeping by a coastline.

Photo: Roy DeSoto in scba looking at a corpse.

Photo: A destroyed ambulance sitting in rubble.

Photo: Sergeant Joe Getraer from CHiPs.

Photo: Nurse Sharon Walters looking overwhelmed.

Photo: Captain Stanley, sobbing.

**************************************************  
From:patti k () Sent:Sun 11/07/10 11:44 AM Subject: Reconnoiter...

"We're not done yet." encouraged Robert Cooper to Station 51's men. He lifted his radio to his mouth. "USAR-1 to any available chopper with surveillance capability. We need a fly by of the toll bridge's post wave footprint as soon as this fog starts burning away in the daylight." he requested.

##Coast Guard One copies. Do you want GPS coordinate telemetry on potential survivable submerged areas?## asked its pilot.

Robert toggled back a reply. "That's affirmative. Anything that our divers can definitely reach safely by boat or descent cable."

##Coast Guard One to USAR-1. We expect full functional visability in half an hour via our infrared.##

"10-4." Robert acknowledged. He bobbed his head at the engine crew and three paramedics surrounding Captain Stanley from Station 51 and shrugged to ease some of their stress. "So we're going aquatic from now on. Doesn't change anything. We're still gonna try to find the people out there."

Hank sighed gratefully. "I appreciate every effort made, Captain."

Craig Brice had joined the scene surveying USAR firemen as they reassessed the beaches and the newly altered collapsed tollway access points on the bay. He spoke even as he glassed the waterline. "How about Station 110,  
sir? Our fireboat was out to sea when all of this began. She might be able to get another set of eyes combing where the bridge went down."

"Good idea." Captain Stanley said. "I'll pass that along to CA-2 at Incident Command."

Bob Bellingham was antsy. "Is anybody else feeling like we're hovering?  
Hundreds, no.. thousands of people all around us are in jeopardy and here we are-"

DeSoto was no nonsense. "We're not neglecting duty. This is how we were assigned. This is where they wanted us to be. It's only by random good fortune that it lines up with what we want emotionally, Bob, so don't let yourself feel guilty. Not by a long shot."

Chet Kelly was spy glassing the water with an intensity unmatched by any other firefighter. He had overheard the conversations going on around him.  
"Cap, let's just put two and two together, all right? First, critical gear from the Mayfair was hauled off to somewhere else. That says "Gage" written all over it. Second, he's got an EMT with him who's at least well enough to accompany him in helping to look for an escape out of any danger, and we all know that two sets of eyes are always better than one. And lastly,  
that third wave was the biggest, but it was really slowed down by all the obstacles and debris already dumped off by the first two tsunami waves. I can't see it doing that much more damage. Temporary submersion, maybe, but more catastrophic deadly destruction?" Kelly shook his head in negation.

Stoker agreed."Everything that could collapse or be washed away, has already done so."

Marco looked up from the line of HT radios set up on the hood of Squad 51 that he was monitoring that were set to their various different emergency channels. "Yeah. So if they're in a safe pocket, it's still gonna be safe for them."

"I know, you guys." said Hank to all of them. "That's what Captain Cooper thinks, too. Or he never would have tied up a critical coastline assigned chopper like that for the few minutes it'll take to map the bridge site."

Right then, the HT set to the California Highway Patrol came to life.  
Swinging his head around, Lopez knew who the callers were because they were no longer at USAR's Base of Operation. ##Seven Mary Four to Seven Mary Three, are you with the lifeguards?##

Jon Baker replied to Frank Poncherello. ##That affirmative. And they've assured me their boats are ready to rock. They want us both on two of them.##

##On my way.## Ponch said.

The Los Angeles County firefighters had overheard the exchange.

Robert's lips formed an oh of surprise and appreciation. "I forgot about the consolidating departments option. Nobody knows more about the water in the bay than they do."

"Who?" asked Bob Bellingham.

Cooper replied with a happy grin.  
"The Baywatch lifeguards. They can't work their home beaches yet, but they can work the bridge. This bay's not in direct line of sight of the open ocean and so it isn't under the active keep away tidal wave warning restrictions."

"That's at least four more boats coming in. I like it." said Stoker happily, still glassing the sea.

"I guess we should never under estimate the ingenuity of law enforcement divisions." Hank chuckled, still listening in to the handy talkie tuned to CHiPs dispatcher. A few seconds later, Ponch's voice came over the speaker.

##Seven Mary Four to Engine 51. Do you copy?## hailed Frank.

Cap picked up the radio and replied. "This is Engine 51."

##Had your ears on the last minute or so, Captain? We're bringing in reinforcements!## Ponch said happily.

"We heard. We'll be ready. Land just below us in between the orange buoys. USAR's determined that area of beach is free of danger." Hank told the CHiPs officer as he watched one of USAR's scouting firefighters toss the safety marker floats into the water from the cliff tops far above.

##Will do. Get your paramedics set to join us!## he shouted over the noise of a motorboat's revving engine.

"We'll be ready." Cap promised. "Brice, Roy, Bob.. Grab out everything. We'll handle gathering rescue ropes and harnesses, and all of the stokes."

Ponch turned back to a pair of beach lifeguards standing on the sand in the ravaged parking lot of a beach city park. "Do you have any casualties needing medical attention and evacuation? We've gear."

One of the guards answered. "Not anymore. What live ones we found we treated and turned over to some fire companies. All the others on our beach are dead and marked."

"How many?" asked Jon Baker, helping a man named Manny steady a newly arrived yellow lifeguard boat in the water. He noticed a few plastic tarps covering bodies hanging out of piles of building and pier debris near the lifeguard's wall elevated Headquarters.

"Seventy four. All of them refused to leave the beach even when we broadcast the tidal wave warning announcement." the lifeguard replied.

"Who actually listened to ya?" Baker asked, angry at the news.

"The ones old enough to remember Crescent City as adults." he replied. "They got their families to safety in time."

Jon nodded his head at the memory. He had been just a boy of twelve when he heard the story of the infamous tele-tsunami from Alaska that had destroyed the port's marina in 1964 from his parents and the newspapers. "The first known California tsunami..." he recalled.

"Yes." said Manny. "And now we have three more on our hands that have hit a much, much larger coastline population size. I'm beginning to wonder if we can actually do anything for anybody. The devastation is just too-"

"Less chatter! Let's get to work!" said a lifeguard supervisor, waving in three more lifeguard rescue boats that had ridden out the giant waves far out to sea with his signal flag.

The CHiP officers and Manny snapped into action.

Sharon Walters saw three CHiPs cruisers screech to a halt at the edge of the mob milling about outside. She picked up her C.B. radio mic and waited.  
##Rampart this is Seven Mary David, Baricza. Give us a minute to sort out the crowd for actual injuries. They just need calming down. Most of what we're seeing is superficial cuts and abrasions.##

"This is Rampart Base, 10-4. We're standing by with gurneys if they're needed."  
she transmitted, looking through the chained doors' glass windows over the heads of the crowd. "Careful. They were rioting a minute ago."

##Understood.## said CHiP Officer Barry.

Sharon grinned when a familiar black uniformed officer strode towards her through the throng of tsunami victims who parted like the Red Sea around him.  
::Vince.:: she smiled in relief. He gave her the high sign to unchain the doors.

Howard actually smiled at her.  
"It's safe now. They just needed some reassurance. We're the first emergency responders they've seen all day. A few of them thought the end of the world was upon them and were being stupid by spreading panic." said Howard.

Walters swept an appraising eye over him, noticing mud and blood on his uniform. "Need to take a break? We've still got power and running water. Food's sitting out in the lobby for anyone rescue who needs it." she said cracking open only one door to let the city officer in before she rechained it.

"I'll grab a bite. Then I need to get back out there to keep the hospital's perimeter controlled against other misunderstanding restless folk, with the CHiP cars. If we find anyone needing serious medical attention, we'll get them to you right here, under escort."

"Sounds fair enough. But I have to keep the E.R. doors secured except to let in the wounded you send us. It's policy." Walters explained. "Only an administrator can rescind what I've set in place."

"That's okay. We can work with it." he replied. "Better safe than sorry."  
he said wearily.

Sharon noticed a cut on Vince's arm and quickly bound it up with a bandage wrap. "Just a nick here. Had your tentanus lately?"

"Huh?" Howard said, barely looking up from the plate he was filling with sandwiches and fruit. "Uhh..." he sighed, trying to remember through his fatigue.

"You're going to get another one." Walters said, flagging down a nurse with a waiting laceration treatment tray. "He needs a DPT/DTaP I.M." she told the staff member. "He's got a fresh cut."

"Right away, Nurse Walters." she replied.

"Oh, boy. I hate shots." Howard said, pausing in his chewing with some fear.

Sharon just gave him a wry smile. "Bite down on a bullet. I know you've got those handy." she joked. "If you need to lie down for it I can accomodate you."

"Not a fainter, just a phobia." he frowned unhappily.

"Then don't watch. Turn your head now." she said as the nurse began to prep Vince's arm.

"Ouch!" he said at the quick jab.

"Done." Sharon said. "Enjoy your coffee." she concluded, passing off a steaming one chock full of sugar that she had prepared for him. "I've got to get back to work. Thanks for the assist." she said about the ex-mob outside as she hurried away from him.

"Anytime." Vince said, rubbing his now doubly sore arm.

Dixie McCall jerked awake on her blanket. She was roasting. And the sun was high overhead. She looked at her watch and finally saw the reassuring noon time on its face. Looking behind her, she saw that the Mayfair that had been sheltering her from the wind, was gone. She popped up onto her feet. "Right. It's time I got back into the thick of it, too." she muttered,  
snatching up her duty jacket and her abandoned chart. She took off the top page that was not current on its information anymore and folded it up and shoved the information it contained into a pocket for later reference.  
"My six hours are over." She said, gathering up the blanket and the thermos that Brice had given her to bring back to Supplies.

She happily ripped up the green tag with her name on it. "In a pig's eye, Kel. I'm declaring myself back on duty." she spat. Dixie cast its tattered pieces into the wind with a gleeful relish and quickly jogged back to Triage.

Dr. Brackett was washing his hands between patients at a gallon jug of water the National Guard had laid out near some rubbing alcohol bottle cases.  
He wordlessly passed off a hot coffee thermos to her that he had kept ready.  
"Feeling better?"

"Emotionally? Yes. Physically? No... I won't feel better about anything until this whole disaster's been declared over." she groused, accepting the new coffee. She tossed the cold thermos she had carried by a shoulder strap to the ground, under the table, with disgust.

"It's gotten worse, Dix. There's been a third wave. And the casualities keep pouring in."

"Any news on Johnny?" McCall asked, washing up with pure alcohol beside him.

"They found the ambulance." Then Brackett's face twitched. "It had a body in it."

"Oh, that's bad." she sighed, her face growing stony.

"Maybe not. USAR and Station 51 at the bridge site remain hopeful. They've got some good intel on where to begin searching for the rest of them."

"New information?" McCall asked, confused.

"The wrecked bridge is now completely underwater except for the very bottoms of twelve of its snapped off caisson towers. They're searching those now one by one with rappellers and divers."

"Caissons are hollow, aren't they?" Dixie recalled.

"Yes. There are spaces at the bottom for maintenance workers that are triply re-enforced. But those lie under the water line." Kel said.  
"If there's been any kind of structural damage to the outer walls.." he didn't finish his statement.

Dixie's professional mask was back in place. "I like to think that Fireman Gage is very lucky. Winged frequently, but always lucky."

"Can I join you on that mindset?" Dr. Brackett said quickly.

"Feel free. It works." she snorted. "Now, about the new victims. Where would you like me to go first?" she asked the Head of Triage who was also her soul mate.

"Row A. There's two more red tags waiting to move out. They each need another vitals set taken. Oh, and Rampart's out of the transportation circuit.  
They're under a lockdown." Brackett shared.

"How long ago did Sharon declare that?" Dixie asked, shocked.

"At dawn. Things are for the most part under control. But they're max'ed out and are accepting no more patients. Any new ones are being routed to Cedars-Sinai." Kel told her.

Joe Early came jogging over on his way to the yellow tags tent. "Good to have you back, Dixie." he said, briefly squeezing her shoulder as he grabbed up a new box of rubber gloves.

"It's good to be back!" she shouted into his direction as he ran away again.

Out on the triage field, Dixie could see Dr. Morton giving her an enthusiastic thumbs up once he saw that he had made eye contact with her. He offered her a little victory dance move.

Inside, Dixie felt greatly heartened by his support and finally felt mentally rejoined back with her team. She accepted the Mayfair HT Brackett handed out to her and toggled the talk button. "Mayfair One to all Mayfair Units. I'm back in Operations. Relay all transmissions to me at will." she broadcast to her EMTs.

She could almost hear the cheers from them rising across town.

Photo: USAR's Captain Robert Cooper issuing orders.

Photo: A Coast Guard chopper and cutter out in a bay.

Photo: Beach lifeguards in front of their Headquarters.

Photo: A Baywatch lifeguard boat on the beach surrounded by people.

Photo: Manny and other lifeguards, smiling.

Photo: CHiPs Ponch and Jon smiling outside.

Photo: A lifeguard leaping off a boat in high waves.

Photo: Vince kneeling, outside in his helmet.

Photo: Sharon Walters guarding a doorway.

Photo: Dixie working a triage victim with a blanket.

Photo: Brackett in an Mayfair talking to a police officer.

**************************************************  
From: patti k () Sent: Mon 11/15/10 1:08 PM Subject: Traces..

The Navy Seals had the new search plan brainstormed for exploring the fallen bridge's caissons down to a fine art.  
"Sound bottom!" cried the team leader as their powerfully outfitted inflatable raft neared the fourth tower remnant tagged by the Coast Guard helicopter's mapping sortie.

"Five meters, sir. We're still clear!" replied the raft's navigator as he checked an electronic radar screen on a depth finder set on top of a tied down metal case.

"Okay." said the team leader. "Notify Fireboat 110 that they can approach and land with their people and dogs. How's the surge?"

"Negligible, sir. The regular tide's at equilibrium. Tsumani effects are over."

"Thank you, navigator. Cast off a marker buoy and let's begin sonar sweeps. As usual, look for another way in other than over the top. USAR's rappelling teams already have their hands more than full. Try and find us a diver's mole hole!"

Roy DeSoto, Craig Brice, and Bob Bellingham were on board Fireboat 110 along with USAR's captain, Robert Cooper and five others on his team. They had out an infrared scanner, aimed at the side of the concrete remnant the Navy said was safe enough to approach.

"I'm reading victim signatures!" said one USAR firefighter.

"Where?" prompted Cooper, leaning carefully on the ocean shifting boat deck to peer over the fireman's shoulder at the infrared gun's tiny thermal imaging screen.

"About twenty five feet in, sir. Warmer than ambient air."

"So they're alive then. You're not just picking up corpses' body core readings this time?"

"No, sir. All of their limbs are hot, too. I see five individuals."

"Any signs of conscious movement?"

"None." he said, studying the white hot silhouettes against the dark gray background.

Right then, the wind shifted and began to blow over the shattered caisson and over their rescue boat.

A search dog on deck began to bark. The one trained to spot life.

"Right then. Radio the Seals that we have a positive reading."  
said Robert. "Have them send in their divers to spot ours. We're gonna comb every inch of exposed and submerged surfaces until we find a way to get to them!" said Cooper.

Brice steadied himself against the rocking fire boat deck and joined USAR's captain. "What are their temperatures showing? They could be hypothermic or suffocating in bad air."

"Around... 96 F on some, still normal on others." replied the scanning firefighter.

"Could they be sleeping if they're not injured?" Roy wondered.

"It's possible." Robert nodded. "We are seeing breathing on all of them. They just might not be able to hear us out here."

"Can you tell male from female?" asked Bob Bellingham.

"No. Just these fuzzy, figure shaped silhouettes. Hair's too cold to show up. Same goes for any finer details on their outlines."

"Good enough for me." said Bob, smacking Roy's shoulder in encouragement. "I'll go call the engine crew."

Roy tried not to get excited. But then he saw something that made that impossible. "Look! Over there in the water!"

"What is it?" asked Bellingham, squinting in the morning sun reflecting off the debris choked waves.

Brice grabbed a rescue pole and hooked the object on board.  
The color of it was registering as very familiar in his mind. "It's an ambulance blanket. One of the Mayfair's."

DeSoto turned over the soggy wool in his gloves to confirm the company logo's and spotted something else. "These are new blood stains. Craig, I think we've found them." he whispered.

USAR and the Navy diving team began to pick up the pace,  
mooring them to the broken island of jumbled concrete. "Come on people! Don't dilly dally!" snapped Cooper. "I want air pocket atmosphere quality checks before any heads start poking into gaps."  
he said, pulling back one of his firemen who had done just that after the whining dog starting actively digging in a spot."The search dogs aren't your own personal mine hole canaries. There could be vehicles and laden semi trucks down there loaded up with spilled toxic chemicals." he warned. "We are all gonna stay safe. We come first.  
Then we worry about digging out these victims." he growled.

Captain Stanley just about leaped from the Ward LaFrance after Bob got off HT frequencies. He rushed over to where Chet, Marco and Stoker were fitfully sleeping on the ground on top of their firecoats. "They've found traces of live victims and an unrefutable find of a piece of debris from Johnny's medical gear. We're going out there!"

"How?" asked Chet, scrambling to his feet to put his turnout and helmet back on. "Fireboat 110's gone."

"We'll use them." said Cap pointing to the beach. "They are gonna be part of the county fire department in a few years according to the chiefs, aren't they? So let's request some mutual aid." he shared, indicating the yellow Baywatch lifeguard boat pulled up onto the sand. Together, the four of them ran to meet the team of lifeguards getting set to go search another collapsed bridge caisson.

One of them looked up at Hank. "Captain? What's up?" he asked.

"Trapped victims have been located out there at the fourth caisson from the north shore. We need a ride." Stanley said, no nonsense, his eyes partially begging.

The big balding lifeguard nodded. "Hop aboard. We're just about ready to shove off. Bring all the gear you've got."

Soon, several stokes and all of Engine 51's medical, rescue and oxygen supplies were neatly tied down in the center of the large neon yellow lifeguard speed boat.

"Put these on." offered the lifeguard Cap had approached, handing out four big orange lifevests. "My name's Manny. I'll take you out there myself.  
I understand that ambulance was one of yours." he said, pointing to the battered hulk of the Mayfair a little way down the beach.

"Yes. It had two of our people on it. An EMT and a fire station paramedic."  
Marco replied.

"What are their names so we know what to holler?" the lifeguard grinned.

"Johnny Gage and Rosalie Arnold." said Stoker, quickly sitting down on a bench and grabbing hold of a mooring line for leverage. "There was a National Guardsman found dead in the rig."

"They could be badly injured then." Manny frowned.

"That's what we're afraid of. Or worse." Hank told him.

"We'll do our best, sir." nodded Manny, pointing to another lifeguard to launch them all.

"We sure appreciate it." Stanley said. Then he gave an update to CA-2 over the radio. "Engine 51 to CA-2 Battalion. Four on board with Baywatch Avalon to caisson number four. Five viable victim signatures have been located but are still inaccessible."

##CA-2 copies Engine 51. Notify me when you need a chopper to fly out any casualties.##

"10- 4." said Cap.

Photo: Firemen in Fireboat 110 out at sea.

Photo: Manny and another lifeguard in a Baywatch rescue Scarab.

Photo: A Navy Seal diver above a submerged car.

Photo: A rescuer worker searching a debris pile with a dog.

Photo: A steel rod blocked breach in fractured concrete.

Photo: A foam case containing an infrared thermal imaging gun.

Photo: A firefighter a live victim outline on a thermal imager.

Photo: A closeup of a victim in infrared.

Photo: Roy DeSoto looking anxious outside in a helmet.

Photo: Cap on an HT outside, looking up.

Photo: A yellow Baywatch rescue boat, speeding out to sea.

From:patti k ()  
Sent:Tue 11/16/10 3:46 PM Subject: Chip by Chip, Tit for Tat..

There finally came a lull in Triage. Every treatable victim found in Division One's area around Torrance was on the way to at least some kind of advanced medical care and permanent shelter in an area hospital. Only organizing restless green tags remained. That and moving out black ones to the makeshift morgue in a parking lot so they could be placed into body bags by L.A. County's Coroner Services unit.

Dixie McCall was on a portable biophone set aside for direct staff communications with Nurse Sharon Walters. She was waiting for all the EMTs from Mayfair not being used for rescues to show up for a situation debrief and a set of physical checks. "Sharon, how are you holding up?"

##Dixie! It's so good to hear your voice. I heard about you being triage tagged last night on a paramedic report tape. Are you okay?## Walters minced. McCall could tell that she was standing inside of the paramedic base station with the door closed. The echoes of the small, unseen familar room were unmistakable.

Dixie made her voice bright and relaxed.  
"I'm fine. Just one of those nasty waking suppressed memories they always warn you about in nursing school. Only this one wasn't from any hospital work. It was from an incident I was literally trapped inside of during my college years." Dixie told her gently, smiling. "Now enough about me. What's the situation by you? I heard you ordered Rampart completely locked down at sunrise."

##I had to, Dixie. There was a riot outside. A California Highway Patrol Sergeant I called for advice, strongly suggested it.## Sharon said quickly, very eager for contact from her friend and fellow head nurse.

"Sharon, you did what you had to do." Dixie demurred. "It was the right choice.  
I hope those people didn't rip each other to shreds trying to get in."

Walters was quick to reassure Dixie.  
##They weren't that bad after a few police officers did some crowd control. A panicking few thought the city was completely out of control emergency services wise after a day of not seeing any. Most were only looking for medical help for minor injuries along with some food and water. We had our cafeteria workers leave crates of bottled beverages and sandwiches out along the dock in Shipping and Receiving. We left those bay doors open. We're still treating them one by one. In the parking lot.##

"Smart girl. Sharon, answer me truthfully. Have you slept?"

##A little. Carol took over for me for five hours this morning. I think I crashed in the chapel on a bench.## Walters sighed. ## I can't remember what I did exactly. But everyone told me I at least napped a little.##

Dixie could almost see Sharon's bone weary face and sweat loosened hair.  
"You picked a good place. Patients and staff can't pester you there. That's where I always went during crunch times." McCall shared.

##So what's it like out there, Dixie? I've heard stories from patients about whole neighborhoods lying completely in ruins from huge waves.##

"There were three of them." McCall told her. "Anything lower than fifty feet above sea level at high tide and a quarter of a mile inland was either flooded or totally washed away." she said. "The death toll is high. I won't even begin to guess at how many. We've over three hundred just at this Triage station alone. And our county has fourteen Triage locations set up like us near the coastal regions. You already know how many red tags there were locally. Just multiply those you received by three and you'll know that number for Torrance and Carson. Our yellow tags were double the red's numbers. We had them shipped out on buses to community hospitals, clinics and medical centers farther inland."

##Is your staff handling it okay?##

"My Mayfair people are getting worn out after all night so I'm calling them in for a few more hours respite right now."

##Is Kel with you? I can just imagine how much he's grumbling now.## she sighed.

"He's been decent." Dixie shrugged. "It's Morton whose bedside manner is getting out of hand. He won't even smile at a child now."

##Fix that with a practical joke. That's what Johnny does.## Sharon giggled.

The hard won peace on Dixie's face wiped completely away. And an uncomfortable silence stretched long over the biocomm line.

##Dixie? Have they found him yet?## Sharon finally asked.

McCall's voice was tired and dry.  
"There hasn't been any word. But they must be onto something at least tentative because I haven't seen hide nor hair of Station 51's company in hours. I've personally seen both the squad and engine sitting empty and they've been absolutely stripped down to their bare metal, equipment wise." Dixie said. "Roy even left Gage's helmet sitting out on the dash-" she broke off, before old ugly emotions from the night threatened to resurface.

##Shhh..## Walters soothed. ##If I hear anything about him coming in as a patient on a log, I'll call you.## Sharon promised.

"Thanks, Sharon. Likewise." McCall told her. "Now go eat something. My people are finally all here." she said, glancing about the fire department R&R tent. "Time to give them all a serious pep talk." she chuckled.

Sharon finally sighed. ##Keep in touch, Dixie. It means a lot.##

"You, too. The same goes for me." Then she hung up the biophone receiver reluctantly.

McCall parked the white biophone unit back under her chair to monitor it by ear and turned toward her charges with firm shoulders.

-  
A large chuck of concrete cracked away under the torque of a straining Hurst tool.

"Heads!" shouted the jaws operator.

The USAR team working close by where the dog had signalled all flattened instantly and covered their helmets with their gloves.

Roy, Brice and Bob all ducked behind a protective boulder of debris. They had laid out their paramedic gear hours ago and a clear plastic sack full of packaged I.V. solutions were baking nicely in the sun to effectively heat them up to shock fighting levels.

The work of extrication was going painfully slow. Progress wasn't being measured in feet through the crushed caission wall. It was in chips and flakes; bare inches that had been stymied often by criss crossing grids of twisted reinforcing rebar steel.

The wait, was agonizing.

"Any movement?" asked Roy again, unnecessarily of USAR's people working equipment.

The sentry firefighter was fussing with the dark red thermal imager. He shook his head. "The imager's power ran out. I'm still recharging it. I'll have it back in about an hour."

Another USAR man, wearing a head set from a sound probe inserted into another crack, replied. "I can still hear breathing when the surf quiets down a little between the waves."

"Thanks, guys. Sorry for bugging you. Again." sighed DeSoto.

Then came a shout from the waterline. It was a Navy Seal diver, side by side with a USAR fire department rescue diver in livid orange, treading water. "We found a breach underwater! It gets us completely inside the caisson's interior. We saw daylight, sir."

"What exactly is it like getting inside?" shouted down Robert Cooper.

"Open. Easily accessible once you swim over a blue van sitting in the way."  
replied the diver. "The passageway's about twelve feet down, sixty feet long in between two large slabs of roadway, slanted at an angle on the sea bottom. About five feet by three feet by four feet wide at the min.  
Like a ...lopsided triangle."

"Too far for breath holding." Coopers realized. "All right. Hang tight.  
I'm grabbing you some paramedic backup." he told them. He ran over to Craig, Roy and Bob. "Are any of you PADI certified?"

"We are." said DeSoto and Brice, looking at each other with hope.

The USAR captain grinned.  
"We found a definite way in. Grab a couple of tanks and masks and submersible first aid supplies. You're going swimming with the dive team." Robert told them. "Looks like most of this caisson tower's unburied. We'll dive in one by one, and then concentrate on reorganizing our search and rescue operation. Only this time, from the inside. I'm convinced we're accomplishing nearly next to nothing out here." He whistled sharply for the diggers to stop trying to chip away through the wall with their power tools. Two hours' work had yielded progress only ten inches deep at the search dog alerted hole.  
"This is tough stuff."

The L.A. County fire paramedics hurried to the task. Bob Bellingham looked askance. "Now I'm really sorry I never learned how to scuba." he muttered.

The USAR Safety Officer, listening in, patted him on the shoulder in encouragement before running back down to the waterline to go watch the others disembark.

Robert turned to another team, the one monitoring the victims. "Start pounding on steel beams and making some racket. I want us to be heard. Maybe our victims can start helping us out a little by directing us to them by making some noise of their own right back."

A fireman picked up a heavy wrench and megaphone and started hollering and banging on struts and beams he knew penetrated deep underground.

-  
Johnny Gage looked up from where he was lying down trying to doze in between his two critical victims."Did you hear that?" he asked Rosalie.

She lifted up her head from where she was cradled around the sleeping boy to keep him a little warmer. "Hear what?" she asked. Then she froze, carefully listening. "Oh. That. Johnny, that's the loose girder I told you was hanging from the ladder going up the shaft. The wind from the hole above's making it sway."

Gage got up onto his feet and looked up again for the billionth time at the tiny patch of sky they could see, hundreds of feet up. "Maybe you're right.  
Maybe I'm just wishing for things." he coughed.

"Wishing's...good." gasped Karen, the National Guardswoman with the fractured femurs.

Both Rosalie and Johnny crouched back down by her side. "You're awake.  
How are you feeling?" Gage asked, reaching for her carotid pulse.

"I'm hurting. But...not bad. Could be worse." she whispered dryly.

"Want some more pain medication?" Arnold asked her, pointing to the morphine syringe still needle stabbed and hanging off the injection chamber of Karen's I.V. line.

"O-okay.." she puffed.

"Rosalie, put her back on some oxygen. She's getting a little cyanotic again." Johnny said. "Can't warm her up any, our blankets have been soaked in seawater."

"Sure." said Arnold, getting up to make her way over to the scoop stretcher and their medical supplies. She swayed with a sudden dizziness. "Whoa.." she said, grabbing onto the broken wall.

"Hey, are you all right?" Johnny asked, leaping up quickly to catch an arm.

Arnold took in a deep testing breath and smiled. "Guess I'm getting hungry again."

"I'll get you some glucose paste." he frowned. "And I'm taking another BP. I haven't checked you since we found Karen and the van family who knows how many hours ago."

"It can't be bad, Gage. I'm standing vertical here." she said dryly.

"Just barely." he groused.

Rosalie ignored his comment and deflected conversation.  
"The boy's dry and warm now. And tired. He hasn't moved since I positioned him that way." she smiled, pointing.

Johnny noticed she had rolled him into a recovery position. "He'll probably keep snoring the rest of today and all through tomorrow.  
He's been through a lot for a six year old kid. That sleep's protective."

"How are they doing?" she asked of the sleeping Uncle and Aunt wrapped up in a tattered shock sheet.

"Fine. The uncle's lungs have cleared up. Guess we have a day or so before secondary drowning sets in and causes some new pulmonary edema. His EKG reading's doing fine so far. No electrolyte imbalances at all."

"And mine?" Karen asked from the ground.

"And yours. You don't have any crush injuries to sky rocket your serum potassium any. Nor any compartmental syndrome." Gage said,  
tossing his head at her.

"Am I supposed to know what... all that means?" Karen asked groggily.

"No. That's our job." Rosalie told her. "Half a mil more?"

Karen tried unsuccessfully to hide a wince of pain. "Okay."

Arnold injected the MS slowly by depressing the hanging syringe's plunger. "There. Better?"

"...yeah..." she said, suddenly dreamy again.

"That's enough." Johnny warned lightly. "Just half a mil."

Rosalie faced him. "I didn't over do it. See?" she pointed. The feisty EMT turned back to the leg shattered woman and fussed with her dressings. "Good, Karen. You don't have to be uncomfortable." Arnold said. She reached over to drag out a new oxygen cylinder for Karen. "Oh, oo... Wow, that smarts." she said, pausing her activity. "D*mn rib bruises."

"Heh. I knew you weren't immortal." Johnny smirked. Then he got serious. "Short of breath any with that itty bitty, teeny tiny, little sternal ache?"

"No." she answered. "Just finally acknowledging that I've been a little meat tenderized." Rosalie snapped, snorted in victory as she finally found a pain free way to get the job done. "Thank you very much for asking." she said sarcastically as she nimbly got a flowing mask going on Karen.

"Collapsing bridges'll do that to ya." Gage joked. "Grab out another cold pack for yourself if you think it won't really chill you down all that much. That should help a ton like one did earlier in the rig."

"I wanna save the rest of those for Karen. Her leg's'll probably need some swelling reduction before too long."

Gage finally agreed, taking Karen's BP. "Normal." he said, smiling down at her. "Why don't you try to sleep some more? I'll let you know when the pizza arrives." he chuckled, watching her breathing rate as it slowed.

Karen grinned. "Make mine a sausage." and then she drifted off softly into sleep.

Johnny studied Karen until he was sure she was staying breathing strong.  
"We've got to cut her MS down to one quarter of a mil at a time. She's hypovolemic from sweating and from that mild blood loss."

"How much do you think she lost?"

"About six hundred CC's. I've replaced that with fluids, but she's red cell shy now. Your turn." Gage ordered, waving gimme fingers at Rosalie.

"Hmm?"

"Vital signs." Gage reminded firmly.

Rosalie didn't make a face this time.  
"Fine. Want me to do some jumping jacks first?" she asked, offering him an upper arm.

"That'd be cheating." he said, wrapping the cuff around it. The valve snicked quickly up to pressure and finally released as he listened for the return of beats and when they went away again. "86 over 50, still." he said sagely.

"Why is it staying so low? I feel fine."

"You're not fine. You're trapped in a bridge tower under G*d knows how many feet of water with no clear signs of rescue coming any time soon. And you're hungry, just like you said. Your emotions are bound to get the body a little depressed. Mine probably is, too." he told her, handing over a tube of sugar paste. "Eat. I promise you it'll taste thoroughly disgusting."

"What flavor is it?"

"Fruit punch. Ponch ate all of the cherry ones while restocking the Mayfair. He got us these in trade."

"I'll kill him." Rosalie promised, without heat.

"Can't. He's the lucky one. He's somewhere out there, getting sunburned." Johnny grinned.

"Then I'll kill him later on. First with a glare, and then with my fist. My right one. Right in the kisser. Full force."

"Why not with the left one? I have a feeling you like dishing out double crosses."

"Because that one's bruised, too. I-" she admitted, squeezing her eyes shut in smiling dismay because Johnny had tricked another medical question out of her. "You devious fox, you."

"I try. Most of my patients cooperate with me I'll have you realize." he said archly, rubbing his face with infinite patience.

"I'm not a patient." she said, squeezing the pink gel tube's contents into her unwilling mouth. "Oh, aghh." she gagged, but swallowing dutifully.

"Sure you are. Until a doctor clears you, and you know it." Gage said with finality, peeling off the blood pressure cuff. "Rules are rules.  
You signed Mayfair Company's contract. And that's in the fine print regarding getting injured on the job."

"Sucker deal. That Mayfair should have had a hidden box of cherry gluc tubes on board; that the average EMT shouldn't have been able to find right away."

"Oh, so now you're calling Ponch average?" he asked suggestively.

"I am." Rosalie said, getting it immediately. Her smile widened slowly.

"Am I?" Johnny's crooked, cockeyed one started to match hers.

"Definitely not." Arnold said. And then she kissed him lightly on the lips before rolling over onto her less painful side to sleep again.  
Her snores began punctuating the air instantly.

Gage grinned, and licked his lips appreciatively as he hunkered down for a long afternoon of monitoring all of his patients. "Now that's better than cherry." he remarked happily, and very timid.

Photo: Head Nurse Sharon Walters in a doorway at Rampart.

Photo: Dixie standing near a Mayfair with long hair.

Photo: USAR team members digging in a hole with lights.

Photo: Roy and Johnny's helmets sitting on Squad 51's dash.

Photo: A white Baywatch rescue boat racing out to sea.

Photo: Water rushing backwards in the L.A. Riverbed.

Photo: A tented rest and relief firefighters camp under a dim sun.

Photo: Divers at a collapsed bridge with vertical cars.

Photo: Gage looking back through a small dirt hole.

Photo: Rosalie Arnold resting on sheets.

Photo: A medical bag full of glucose paste tubes.

************************************************* From:patti k () Sent:Wed 11/17/10 10:06 AM Subject: Paths...

Chet eagerly tossed a mooring rope to USAR's safety man from the lifeguard scarab. "What do you got?" he shouted to him.

"Still five victims! All alive. We've just located a submerged passageway that leads inside. No hazards found yet." reported the fireman. "We haven't been able to get to them directly. The find was on the thermal imager and based on a positive life dog point."

"Alive is good." said Captain Stanley, leaping to the concrete island. He located the painted search hole and saw the minimal dent that tools had made in the pavement wall. "Man, not even crackable." he muttered, glove fingering the rebar jutting out from the small breach that was there. "I never thought I'd see the day where I actually want to curse the Army Corps of Engineers for their construction savvy. Today's it." he frowned.

The search dog was still going crazy. His handler took pity on his continued frustration and ordered him back to his crate at the waterline.

Bob Bellingham came to help his crewmates to land. "Cap, I couldn't go with them. They're all below."

Hank nodded. "Hey, we're specialists of fire, not water. DeSoto and Brice are just weird that they also happen to be part fish. Don't feel bad. There's plenty we can do up here while we're waiting."

Manny, the lifeguard, was already putting on a wet suit. "We can go down.  
I'll be the physical go between until we find out whether or not radios work on the inside. We have marker boards and crayons that write underwater if a landmark map or patient information needs to be sketched and brought out here."

Cap nodded. "I'll let our IC know you two are entering." he said about the Baywatch pair's plans.

Mike Stoker was eyeing up the remains of the caisson tower critically for stability alongside the Safety Officer from USAR. "Any rumbling?"

"Not much away from the surfline. We're getting lucky that way. What you're hearing right now are just concrete boulders friction rubbing the debris island in the waves. That should die down a little once the tide's finished going out."

"Any reply backs?" Marco asked as he also picked up a long rod of rebar and began hitting metal beams to join the signalers team.

"Not yet. The waves have been too noisy to pinpoint any actual responses."

"Too bad the dogs are trained to bark only at scents and not at victim noises."  
51's engineer remarked. He soon twitched where he stood. "This is taking too long. Cap, I'm gonna grab out our sound probe and start listening electronically with the other firemen." Stoker said.

"You took the words out of my own mouth." Hank told him.

Kelly gestured a circle in the air with his glove. "Anyone physically try to do a 360 walk around the whole caisson base?"

The Safety shook his head. "We stopped when we got the clear signatures."

Chet grinned wolfishly at the dog handler. "Can I borrow your dog?"

"Be my guest. Watch his body english, he'll steer you around soft spots."  
the handler instructed. "You'll lose that guidance if you let him off his lead."

"I stand forewarned. Reined in mutt works for me." Kelly said. "Come on, Marco. You're my rear man. I'll holler on HT if we find any new holes, Cap." he said, pocketting a can of orange marker spray paint. "I don't know about you, but I want in."

"No entry, Chet. That's an order. There's a team already down there. Last thing we need to do is dislodge a whole roof down onto the top them by crawling around."

"Yes, sir."

Hank watched as Chet saluted a serious acknowledgement. The joker in the Irish fireman was long gone in the face of life and death.  
"Sorry. I know you're in rescue mode now." Hank told him.

Kelly waved him off in forgiving dismissal.

Cap parked on a convenient flat slab near the rescue gear and extrication equipment to monitor all of their radios and soon, he started plastic bagging a few for the swimmers in the water when they decided to return for more tools.

Johnny jolted when the old woman awoke with a start. "Ma'am. It's okay. We're still dry." he called out, gripping her shoulders while she regained equilibrium. "Joshua and Bernie are still asleep."

"Oh, sakes. That was a nasty dream." she coughed, wiping some spittle from her pebble encrusted face. "What time is it?" she asked,  
sitting up.

Johnny studied his watch. "It's coming up on two p.m. Still feeling okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's a little chilly, but I'll manage." she said with dignity as she fingered her graying hair back into a sad parody of neatness.

"What's your name? I don't believe your husband or nephew ever told me that."

"Oh.." she shaded with embarrassment."That's because I hate my first name. It's Gertrude." she confided.

Gage leaned in confidentially. "Is it all right if I call you Gertie then? It's kinda nice with a name like Bernie, your husband's."

"That'll be fine." she said with regal timidity. Then her mothering instincts started extending past the ones that were making her stroke Joshua's peaceful cheek. "How are they doing?" she asked about Rosalie and Karen.

"Karen and Arnold? They're still stable. And comfortable." Gage answered.

Gertie sighed with relief, but then her wrinkled cheerful face clouded.  
"I don't know how long you've been with your ambulance partner, but mark my words. I think she's hiding symptoms."

"Oh, yeah?" Johnny asked, suspicious all over again about Arnold.

"Yep." said Gertie. "Believe me, I've lived a long time so I'm an absolute expert when it comes to seeing love at first sight."

"It's.. w-what did you say?" Johnny gaped, open mouthed. His thoughts about medical injuries and Rosalie's spicy personality completely going out of his head.

"Oh, come now young man. You're just as smitten with the young lady.  
That's plain as day." she giggled. "If you two didn't have all of us here trapped with you like this, you two'd be all over each other." she declared.  
"And you're suffering the exact same disease."

"W-" Johnny sputtered. "Do you really think Rosalie's my one true love in life? Even without actually knowing her?"

"Yep. And I don't know you either. Usually I don't talk to strange men,  
being married and all." she confided with a wink. "But I do speak my mind about a special kind of love whenever I see it. There's nothing greater. I know true love because that's how it was between me and Bernie. Thanks for saving all our lives, Mr. Fireman." she said absently patting Johnny's hand in gratitude.

"It's Johnny. Johnny Gage." he offered lamely, stunned. "And you're welcome, Gertie. Glad I could be of service." he slurred, totally dumbfounded. "It's my job and I'm glad I'm good at it.. and-" he trailed off absently, eyes going wide with a soft new emotional fear.

His eyes cast over to Rosalie's sleeping shadow with a new budding,  
protective realization. And with that, came a half smile that just made old Gertie chuckle merrily all over again.

Photo: Chet talking to other rescuers near a debris pile.

Photo: Battalion CA-2 near an incident command marker board at night.

Photo: A squad compartment full of medical gear.

Photo: Marco running over rubble with a backboard.

Photo: Cap and Mike Stoker near a hole in rock.

Photo: Manny, a Baywatch lifeguard.

Photo: Manny leaping from a yellow lifeguard boat in heavy surf.

Photo: A stunned, sopping wet Gage.

Photo: A smiling cheerful old lady with wisdom on her face.

From:patti k ()  
Subject: Expert Drilling.. Sent:Sun 11/21/10 3:47 AM

The way was murky, and the continuous sounds of settling steel and grinding rubble were magnified underwater. After what seemed a very long time, Roy DeSoto felt a tap on top of his head. He lifted his diving mask out of the water and felt the heaviness of gravity return as salty dank air resettled around his head and neck. He carefully removed the regulator from his mouth. "Thanks." he told his guide.  
"I couldn't see which way was up."

Next to him, Brice surfaced from the inky brine neatly, not disoriented at all.  
His nimbleness made Roy suddenly feel old and frighteningly out of his element. DeSoto squashed the odd, rising emotion quickly, chalking it up as worry and a temporary lack of concentration.

"Okay. This is it." replied the Navy Seal who was overseeing the two fire paramedics safe arrival inside. "Keep your head low by the pool until your eyes get used to the dark. There's a large broken beam right above us. We've only got battery powered lamps to use until we get the portable generator that we've brought inside, up and running."

Soon, Brice and Roy learned that the space away from the edge of the seawater hole extended far up over their heads, towering vertical. It proved that they were in the heart of the caisson hundreds of feet below where it met the barest feeble square of bright sky, glowing feebly, far above.

"Any audible responses being heard?" asked Craig Brice as he peeled out of his dive suit to a uniform underneath. From a plastic bag, he drew out his and Roy's turnout jackets and helmets and a wrapped handy talkie. After he was through, he helped DeSoto out of his and his heavy air bottle.

None of the USAR or Navy Seals personnel could be seen past their helmet lamps illuminating just their upper bodies and shoulders in the darkness.

"Not yet." said a USAR listener. "Just the ambient so far." he said, moving his sound probe into another crack that his flashlight had found.

"Which way are they from here?" asked Roy, peering about in the blackness with a flashlight. Sea salt was stinging the skin around his ankles above the socks and boots he still wore. All of the rescuers hadn't wanted to waste time by using flippers. The cold that had built up during the night was still present and his breath steamed richly in the air around his mouth. "I've lost track of my sense of direction."

A specialist got up from the crouch he was in over a pack of equipment. He angled a small floating compass under a wrist light and twisted around in a 360 to get a bearing. "Everybody does in the dark." He drew out a spray can of flourescent orange and painted a big "V" for victim on the wall with a numeric directional bearing and an arrow pointing the way. "Right there."

Roy frowned, looking up and down the whole area for some kind of breach. There wasn't one. "But that's still a wall."

The fireman nodded. "But it's a thin one." he grinned. "Nine inches of debris at the most and we're guessing, with just one overlapping piece of soft asphalt sandwiched in between all the junk. After we punch through that, we'll reach the chamber the thermal imager saw. We're on the exact back side of it. Structural integrity here's very solid all things considering. We won't have to worry about any large cave ins. Just annoying tiny ones that raise a lot of dust."

"So what's the next step?" Brice asked, checking the squad's HT carefully for moisture before turning it on.

Robert Cooper replied. He was still in his bright orange dive suit and tank.  
"We'll drill in an air hole and take a sample. If it's safe, we can start digging operations with the power tools. We'll pump in oxygen for the victims if the space behind is big enough not to oversaturate to a flash point, through that testing bore." he replied. "Specialist O'Mally's right about the dust. It's gonna get bad. Everybody, start wearing your N95s from here on out." he hollered, so everybody could hear him. "Googles aren't such a bad idea either. Use them."

"Dandy." DeSoto said happily, reaching for the handy talkie eagerly. Brice let him have it. "Squad 51 to Engine 51, do you read?" DeSoto hailed after he had put on his paper dust mask and filter over his nose and mouth.

##Engine 51, Squad 51, loud and clear. How is it in there?"

"Very stable surroundings, they tell me, but light is at a bare minimum. In our favor, there is abundant outside air. We're exposed to the sky. I don't think those extra scba will be needed. There's no smoke and no more small confined spaces. We also seem to be in a spot where a line from a chopper might be able to make stretcher and equipment drops from the top."

##We'll be waiting for news. Keep abreast of it.## Cap replied quickly.

"10- 4, Cap. Count on it." Then he turned to Brice. "What did you bring along?"

"Airways, I.V.s, infusion sets, morphine, epinephrine, tourniquets, occlusive dressings and kerlix. One stethoscope, one BP cuff adult, one pediatric. I figured we can use some of the debris lying around here for splinting and spinal immobilization. There's enough wood and small rods lying around."

Roy nodded in appreciation for the choices Brice had made for gear in the few seconds they had been given to prepare.

A USAR lieutenant in charge of logistics had overheard their conversation.  
"We also brought in oxygen and oxygen masks, enough for all for about six hours." he replied. "But that's it."

Craig ended his concern. "After that runs out, we can help blood O2 support by aiding the victims on ambus using room air to keep up good perfusion."

"Really?" The technical firefighter seemed surprised by that care method.

"It's always worked in the past for those awake who've needed it. Even with the breathing unconscious. Patients tolerate it well if the timing's kept right." Roy smiled. "What would you like us to do in the meantime?" he said, eyeing up a thoughtful Cooper. He could see that Robert's mind was staying miles ahead on the technical rescue at hand.

The USAR captain's answer was quick. "Help the listener." Cooper told them. "We won't be able to concentrate on digging and victim monitoring at the same time. We have to watch out for falling debris coming potentially from all directions once we get the drill bit committed to biting concrete. I want nobody on the sidelines getting hurt. Our team's safety is number one priority."

"Understood." Brice answered. "We'll keep out of the way."

The hours moved by slowly. It was only the watch Johnny was wearing that kept him accurate about what actual time it was. Early evening was descending. But exhaustion finally had taken Gage deep into fitful slumber despite his paramedic instincts to stay awake. It was nearing the thirty six hour mark since they had been buried by the tsunami.

Joshua, the boy from the van, woke up quietly, fevered with thirst. Thinking only of that, he crawled over to the hole that Johnny had rescued him from and the dark,  
appealing water he heard lapping there as it churned. He dipped a hand into its upwelling froth and started bringing a palmful to his mouth.

"Joshua, no!" said Rosalie, awakened by the rub of rock the boy's shoes had made. She stopped him by knocking his hand away. "You can't drink that water.  
It's not fresh. That's from the ocean."

"Why? What would happen?" he asked, scared by her frightening reaction.

"It would make you sick. First throwing up and then a really bad headache and stomach pains, like the flu." she tried to explain.

"But I'm so thirsty." he sobbed softly.

"I know. So am I. We can help that real easy, but it's not going to be fun all right? It involves getting a shot."

"No way." he said, pulling away from her, coughing from the dust in the air.

"Come on, let's go back to your aunt and uncle. Then I'll wake Johnny and he'll explain things about what we need to do next. I promise we'll tell you how we can make your thirst go away, Joshua. Okay?" Arnold said, opening her arms in an invite to a hug. "All you have to do is listen, all right?"

The rumpled boy accepted her offered comfort and let himself be lifted up and carried back to their refuge by the rescue gear. Rosalie grunted at her sore spots with the effort. But then she ignored them.

The scuffling awoke Gage. "Rosalie? Problem?" he asked, instantly awake.

"Nothing that some hydration won't cure. Joshua here thought the hole was one he could drink from."

"I thought I could wait a little longer, but we're all going to need some soon."  
Johnny pegged the boy with a steady look. "Now we've been over this before, Joshua.  
You're gonna have to let me give you a shot like we talked about. These I.V.s bags are water, but they don't taste good like the drinking fountain at your school does." he said, hefting one up.

"I don't want to." Joshua fretted, beginning to cry. The commotion soon woke up everybody else from their dozes. "I hate getting shots!"

"Joshua. Come here by me." said Gertie gently, immediately understanding what was going on. "I'll explain exactly what an I.V. is again. See the one Karen's got? It's making her all better."

Karen smiled at the boy. "It only hurts for a couple of seconds, Joshua." she said.  
"Now I can't even feel it." she encouraged. "I'm not thirsty any more." Then she gestured for him to lean close to her. "If you really want to know, all of this water going into my arm's making me want to pee my pants really bad." she confessed into the boy's ear.

Joshua laughed, his sense of humor fighting the tears. "So why don't you go to the bathroom?"

"I don't have anything to go into. Can you find me something?" she asked.

"Sure." said the boy. "I'll hold up a sheet so you can be private. I know how you girls are."

"Thanks, Joshua. Then will you let Johnny put some water from a bag into your arm? If you do, we can both be twins in the Arm Water Club." she grinned,  
blinking slowly, concentrating on the boy.

"Hey, I want to join that club, too." said Bernie. "So it's a little prick in the arm. Big deal. I can handle it. And I'll just bet, so can you, Joshua. Aren't you a big boy now?"

Joshua curled away in a hugging cringe in Rosalie's arms.

"Sure you are." said Gertie.

"It still sounds too scary." said the boy, sobbed.

"Tell you what, I'll go first." Gertie added. "Then your uncle will, so you can see how it's done. But first you help Karen out of her predicament like you do one of your sisters. I'm sure she'll appreciate the help."

"Rosalie and I aren't gonna be chicken, Joshua. We're both getting one." challenged Gage.

That irked the boy's sense of grown up pride.  
"All right. But I need time to think about it first." Joshua said.

"Deal." said his aunt with a smile.

Gage handed him the metal bedpan and an opened shock sheet package. He whispered confidentially to the boy. "She'll know what to do with this metal pan. Afterwards, dump it into the hole, okay?"

The boy nodded, sniffling.

"That's a good helper. We'll make a rescuer out of you yet." he told the boy, messing up Joshua's hair in encouragement.

Arnold let the boy go to Karen's side. When he had moved off into the darkness, she looked to Johnny. "Topical lidocaine?"

"Yeah, we can try that. Numb's gonna work good." he agreed. "Okay Gertie, you know the drill. Our kidneys'll thank us. Give me your arm."

The old woman shivered bravely and handed it over. "It runs in the family, this needle phobia." she warned him. "I might flinch. Or faint."

"I'm practically painless." he promised. "Thanks for volunteering. Drinking these would use them up too fast. We need to ration water." he said. "Are you hungry any?"

"Not really. Far from." Gertie said feebly, nervous.

"Okay. Then it's normal saline over a D5W." Johnny said, swabbing down the place briskly.

"What's the difference?" she asked, morbidly curious over the glistening bags Gage had lined up on a concrete slab.

"Salt versus sugar. The second kills hunger pangs and the shakes."

"Too much information." said the aunt with pursed lips, screwing her eyes shut apprehensively when she felt the paramedic pin her arm under his armpit.

"Try not to yelp this time dear, or our nephew'll hear." Bernie said from the corner of his mouth at her. "Remember how you were when you needed an I.V. when you got pneumonia last winter."

"Oh, you..." she hissed back at her husband.

A few minutes later, Johnny had I.V.s going on both the aunt and uncle and Rosalie, dialed into slow drips. Then he heard the boy returning from his task.

Whistling nonchalantly in an act, he began to swab down his own arm with alcohol. "Yum, it's seven up coming my way in a few." he winked. Joshua looked fearfully at the whole procedure unraveling before his eyes. Johnny engaged him. "Did ya rinse it out afterwards?"

"Huh?" asked the horror struck boy, his eyes glued helplessly to Johnny's arm.

"The bedpan. Did ya remember to wash it?"

"Yeah. It's fine." replied Joshua, frozen. "Here." he said, handing the seawater dripping thing back to him. His eyes never left Johnny's arm skin where the swab was busy at work.

Gage pretended he didn't notice the petrification. "Thanks, man. We gotta share that so we don't want it to smell." he said, setting it aside. "Ready to help me out a little? I'm gonna need someone to tape off this water tube after I hook it up to me. Think you can do that?"

Joshua's head moved woodenly, nodding yes.

"Okay, so be my paramedic partner. Tear off about four long strips. " he said handing over a roll of paper tape to the boy. "Stick them in rows onto your jeans so they don't get messed up. Make each one about six inches long."

Joshua did so, his eyes never leaving Johnny's fingers. They widened hugely when it came time for the catheterized needle to come out. But he didn't scramble away. Gage grinned. He lifted up his knee after tying a tourniquet around his upper arm with his free hand and his teeth. "See that vein sticking up now? That's the one. X marks the spot..." he mumbled, stabbing down the needle's sterile point.  
"OwwwWW!" he hollered. "My arm's falling off!" he mock whined, writhing his legs around like suffocating fish on a beach.

Joshua jumped, laughing in partial horror as he covered his mouth in mock fright with both hands.

"Just kidding." Gage sniffed, settling down to business."It hurts less than a paper cut." he said, acting bored. "Okay, time for the first piece of tape. Put it right there where the tube's turned red."

"Is that your blood?" Joshua asked, curious.

"Yep. Not much, huh?"

"No. I thought it would gush out all over the place." said the boy.

"Oh, you mean like this?" Johnny said, letting the rubber band in his teeth go. A thin stream of blood shot out of the I.V. catheter in his arm and sprayed the wall in front of them in a harmless gory red splatter.

Joshua crowed in bright laughter.

Gage immediately tamped it down with a finger on his vein above the catheter site and chuckled. "I'm not actually supposed to do that, but nobody's watching us right now." he yawned. "Okay tape it off, right around the tube by my pinky like a bumble around a girl's pony tail." he said, holding up the flowing line he had left waiting on a rock.

"Like that?"

"Yep. Looking good."

"Seven up, huh?" asked the boy. "What kind of I.V. flavor is that?" he asked as he finished his tape job.

"The flat kind. Think I'm lying? Smell your fingers once." he said, dripping some drops of D5W onto his hand from the sterile end of the primed tubing.

"It IS seven up." the boy shrugged, tasting it experimentally. "But with no bubbles."

"Right. Bubbles would be bad." he said, mating the end of the catheter to the I.V. line.

"Why?"

Johnny did a double take, biting his lip. "Never mind. I'll tell you later if I remember to. Okay, tape pieces two, three and four. What we gotta do it make sure this tube in my arm vein doesn't pull out. So tape it along my arm, straight up and down like a stick, after making a loop like a candy cane. See how?"

"I think so." said Joshua, working hard with a tongue sticking out. He squinted as he concentrated. "There. Is that right?"

"You're hired, kid." Gage grinned, testing out his arm by jiggling it. "This I.V.'s perfectly taped. Now, see that dial on the drip chamber?"

"Yeah."

"Turn it on with your thumb after grabbing onto the I.V. line."

"What does it do?"

"That controls how much water I get by the drip."

"How much do you want?"

"A lot. I'm parched. Turn it up until it's gushing. I'll turn it down once I'm not feeling thirsty any more."

"But won't your veins start burping if they drink it too fast?"

Gertie chuckled, rubbing her face with amusement.

"They don't have a stomach and but they've got big throats. I'll be fine. Okay, it's your turn." Johnny announced.

"Do I have to?" Joshua said, the smile wiping off of his face.

"Club initiation cost.." Johnny levelled. "Can't join without one."

"Okay, but don't tell anyone I almost chickened out." Joshua said.

"Want your I.V. to fire hose a little afterwards?"

"Yeah! I want my blood to hit the moon!"

Gertie's face leaked out a look of disgust around her fake smile but she managed to stay silent and upright at the verbal interaction.

"Trust me. You're gonna beat me. I'm an expert blood sprayer. I'm a fireman paramedic." Gage said, rolling his eyes at Rosalie. "But you know what? I'm gonna cheat a little first. See this clear paste on my finger? It's medicine. It's gonna numb up your skin a little so that prick will be even less than a paper cut for pain. Want some?"

Joshua shook his head. "That'd be cheating." he said confidently.

Gage blinked in surprise. "Wha- uh, all right. Let me just swab you down then." he said wiping off the lidocaine gel onto his pants leg.

Arnold acted all surgical assistant in mock for Joshua's entertainment. "Swab.." she said, smacking an alcohol pad into Johnny's fingers. "Rubber binder." she said of the tourniquet.  
"Water poker.." she said about the needle guide over the catheter.

Joshua giggled nervously. Then he screwed his eyes shut bravely and tried not to flinch.

Johnny stuck a vein expertly and got a flashback.

"...ee..." peeped Joshua.

"Screaming's allowed." Rosalie shared, still holding Joshua's arm still in between firm hands.

The boy bravely shut up. Then finally his eyes cracked wide open. "Is it time yet?"

"Yep." said Johnny, and he pulled out the needle. The boy's blood went flying from the I.V. catheter's exposed end onto the wall behind them.

"Wow!" said Joshua. "It went twenty feet up! I swear it did. Auntie, did you see that?" he said excitedly.

"I did, Joshua." said Bernie, holding his face hiding wife. "Nice job." he said proudly. "That's gotta be a record."

"Why did mine get so high up, Mr. Gage?"

"That's because your heart's beating so fast." he grinned, finishing his taping job. He followed up by wrapping the boy's arm onto a soft I.V. board to keep it protected from bumps.  
"Okay, one flat seven up, wide open." he promised, dialing up Joshua's new I.V. as high as it could go.

Joshua held still expectantly. "Hey, how come I don't taste anything?"

Rosalie started chuckling. "That's because your veins don't have taste buds. They're pretty boring."

"Oh. Too bad." said Joshua, slumping back into his aunt's arms to study Gage's wrap job and the I.V. tubing in detail.

Johnny held up a finger. "No picking at it. Or germs'll get in and make you sick." he warned.

"I understand." replied the boy. He immediately yawned and his head started doing a head bob, fighting sleep.

"Okay, get some shut eye. When you wake up, that dry tongue of yours will be long gone." Johnny said, pulling up a sheet over Joshua's shoulders. "Just like we promised."

"Thank you." Gertie mouthed silently in gratitude.

Johnny sighed in satisfaction and flipped back onto his back. "No problem. I'm a huge fan of the Arm Water Club." he said loud enough for Joshua to hear.

The boy finally relaxed in his aunt's arms and slumbered.

Photo: A Coast Guard helicopter hovering over the sea.

Photo: USAR personnel examining a confined space.

Photo: Roy peeking into a hole.

Photo: A fireman using a porta power jack.

Photo: USAR firemen diggers at the opening of a wall.

Photo: Gage, sweaty and tired in a hole.

Photo: A child's arm I.V. taped and prepped.

Photo: A closeup of a bag of D5W.

Photo: A boy sleeping on a woman's lap.

**************************************************  
From:patti k () Subject: Cracked..  
Sent:Mon 11/22/10 2:26 AM The last chink in the wall barrier inside Caisson Four fell away, revealing a tiny hole that opened into the pitch black space beyond. A USAR firefighter wearing an air bottle inserted a chemical sniffer and operated a switch on it while the others stood well away for safety. Through his sweaty mask, a smile suddenly broke out onto his face. "Slightly elevated carbon dioxide and ample oxygen. We've still got breathing people in there!" he announced,  
motioning the heavy equipment team back into the crawl space they had all excavated. "No poisonous hazards evident."

Roy kept his relief guarded. "What exactly does he mean by that?"  
he mumbled.

Brice answered, smiling softly. "Only carbon dioxide is made by living things or by things that used to be living being burned. The fact that he picked up no traces of carbon monoxide means nothing's on fire nor has been anywhere near us. So that means there's guaranteed good life signs on at least some of our victims."

"How high are the levels?" asked Robert Cooper, hanging onto his radio.

The hazmat firefighter replied, "They may be a little sleepy in there, but it's nothing life threatening. Won't be for a long time."

"Okay, shove in that hose and start flooding their space with medical oxygen. Make sure the percentage stays between 19.5 and 22 percent. Anything above or below those numbers means we abandon this site until we establish new ventilation holes to fix the imbalance from a safer location." Robert ordered.

The fireman nodded, working quickly to provide their unseen victims breathing aid.

Behind him, Brice nodded approval. "Nineteen point five means black out risks for unprotected rescuers or stalled motorized equipment and the high number is the point where a spark started fire cannot be put out by any means."

"I remember my fire physics, Craig." Roy said with annoyance.

"Sorry, I analyze out loud sometimes when I'm not in charge of a rescue."  
Brice said.

Robert was oblivious to the two paramedics behind him.  
"Step aside for a moment." he said to the digger who had broken through. "I'm gonna try something new to get their attention. We've got greater access now." Cooper set a megaphone right up against the orange sized hole that they had spent nearly seven hours of careful work chipping open. "This is the Los Angeles County Fire Department Urban Search and Rescue Team. If you can hear me, come to the sound of my voice!" he shouted. Then he motioned for silence with a dusty glove. He aimed a hasty flashlight inside to send in a bright beam of light as another signal.

A sharp piercing scream of a child running to them shocked the whole group. A scratched and bloody arm suddenly thrust through the small hole to grab at Robert's shoulder frantically in a mindless, death like grip.

"DeSoto! Brice!" Robert yelled for them, gently keeping the panicking child from clutching his jacket.

"Hey! You in there!" Roy shouted, quickly rushing forward. He gripped the child's arm right back to offer tangible comfort. "Don't panic. We see you. What's your name?" He struggled for a moment along with Brice, trying not to inflict any harm to the existing injuries they could see on their patient's arm. "Listen to me. We're gonna get you out of there real soon. But you're gonna have to calm down so you don't hurt yourself any worse. Do you understand me?"

The most base animalistic cry was the only reply.

Brice shook his head. "Altered level. Pulse's racing. We're gonna need a sedative." he said.

"I'll get your drug box." volunteered Robert. He quickly got it.

Roy shifted around to snug the child's arm underneath his armpit in a safe restraining hold with his back to the wall. "I've got a good grip. It won't break free." he grunted.

"How old would you say? You have kids." Brice asked DeSoto.

"Five, maybe six." Roy strained. "Hurry, Brice."

"I am. Guessing sixty five pounds average weight. Going with short acting Diazepam : 0.2 mg/kg." he gasped, drawing up the medication swiftly into a syringe from a vial.

The screams grew louder and increasingly more frenzied when the child behind the wall found no easy escape.

Robert gaped. "Wait a minute, what about a possible allergic reaction? You don't know anything about this kid."

"This panic attack is life threatening. Just look at all the lacerations! These are self inflicted." Roy said angrily. "Gonna have to chance it!"

"Okay. Okay." Cooper said, backing off. "You're the expert. I'm not a paramedic."

"Craiggg." Roy gasped with effort to not exert too much of his strength onto the slippery arm.

"I got it. I got it. Going for a vein. Lock your muscles down." he warned. He quickly dumped a hasty, liberal splash of alcohol over the child's skin, all over. Then he chose his spot to stab down with a fast plunge of his needle.

The child howled and tried to jerk free from Roy's grip with inhuman strength. "NahhhHHH!"

"Roy!" warned Brice.

"Not moving an inch." DeSoto strained. "Go ahead and push it!"

Brice took exactly three seconds to inject everything.  
"It's all in. Hold on now." Brice said, jerking out the needle and syringe. He tossed it away into a crack in the ground.

A half minute later the loud screams behind the hole quickly fell away into rapid gasps that grew deeper in a solid medicated effect. Roy felt the child's muscles sag as the urge to fight was quickly encouraged by the circulating Valium to leave. "Guys, I'm not gonna let go to prevent a fall. Work around me." he gasped, his face wet with perspiration.

"We can do that." Robert said. "Pry bars!" he snapped to his team. "Protect that arm with swaddling. We've got to expose at least a head as soon as we can!" he ordered.

Firemen rapidly maneuvered three halligans in a ring around the lip of the hole to break away even more chunks of crumbling concrete. A minute later, a tawny head finally tumbled through limply, half out.

"It's a girl!" said a USAR man as long muddy hair noodled down the wall.

Brice braced the girl's head and neck so she had a good airway established. "Get her some oxygen." Craig ordered.

A support man pointed a spare O2 tank's bare tubing on a fast flow in front of the mud coated girl's lolling nose and mouth. "Is she awake?" he asked, wiping thick slime away from around her lips and nostrils with a few gloved fingers.

"Yeah. She's just been numbed. Breathing's gonna be fine." Brice replied. "Get that hole bigger so we can get her safely out and onto a board."

"Found an active bleeder." Roy said pulling a bright red glove away.

"Where?" asked Craig peeling back the girl's eyes in a pupil check where she was partially shoulder draped through the hole as USAR carefully made it larger. "She is shocky."

"Top of her head. It's fresh." he said, replacing his work glove again directly over the wound to control the hemorrhage. "No soft spots or depressions. Gotta be just a scalp tear." DeSoto said, feeling around with his other hand where he couldn't see because of close quarters with so many. He began to hate the unrevealing size of the hole in the wall.

Finally, a large boulder of pavement gave way in an avalanche of pulverized powder, releasing their trapped victim. Brice shoved his arms in further,  
supporting the girl's back on top of his arms with her head resting level on one of his jacketted shoulders. Quickly other hands began stabilization as they slowly maneuvered her free and out of the broken wall.

As soon as she was gone, Cooper was back at the gap, with his megaphone. The hole wasn't yet large enough for a full sized man to squeeze through.  
"This is USAR Rescue! Anybody there?"

The listener on the probe near them suddenly gave a thumbs up.  
"I got a reply. A male voice in a yell. But it's faint. Real faint."

"Start shoring up that ceiling in there. Then we'll go in once it's safe."  
Robert said to the USAR and Navy Seal teams surrounding him.

DeSoto and Brice had already tuned them out to focus their whole attention on the girl they had placed onto a flat surface out in the open. Another man took over for Roy in controlling the girl's head bleeding with a large compress. Craig still angled the child's jaw forward for breathing room while her ragged breaths continued reacting to the Diazepam. Roy peeled off his soiled work gloves for medical ones from a bag. He quickly cut away the child's shredded clothes looking for obvious injuries. He found only bruises and nicks. A coordinated log roll found pretty much the same story on her back and lower half. They quickly bundled her up in warm, dry blankets after securing her spine, legs and head with the straps inside of a small Kendrick extrication device.

"Keep her on blow by. She's gonna snap out of it pretty quick here." Roy said to the fireman keeping up her indirect oxygen flow. The little girl's unfocused open eyes began to stop their aimless wandering and started focusing on shapes. The first one, was Roy's face. She moaned in the first signs of intelligent fright as she began crying noiseless tears. "Shhh. It's okay, hon." DeSoto soothed. "You're safe. We're firemen who've come to rescue you. What's your name? Can you talk?" DeSoto encouraged with a warm smile.

She began to sob huge wracking silent cries, but she never looked away from Roy's eyes. Finally, her lips worked. "I'm Chl..Chloe.." she whispered.

"Chloe? Okay. That's a very pretty name. I'm Roy and this is Craig and we're gonna take really good care of you. But first, can you tell us who else was in that hole with you?"

Chloe swallowed on automatic, still a little fuzzy from the sedative. "I don't know. I didn't know any of them.."

"How many?"

"I d- I can't remember.." she frowned in confusion.

"That's okay. Did you see men and women with you?" asked Brice,  
as he took the girl's first BP.

"Yeah." she said dully, shivering.

Roy felt her carotid pulse for a count. "122, regular." he reported.  
"Shall we try again, captain?" he asked Cooper, looking up.

"No, that's all the information we need to go on." Robert said, looking down at them. "She's just confirmed she was with at least some of the others we saw on the imager." he turned his head to the fireman on the sound probe. "How far would you say?"

"Couldn't tell. Depends on whether or not there's a bend or a wall or two in the way of direct line of sight from the microphone." he said.

Cooper ducked his head in frustration. "Mmm." he grunted. "Okay.  
Good enough. Quit the probe and start setting up the girl's stokes for a lift outta here topside. I'll call in the Coast Guard chopper when the paramedics say they're ready for one."

Craig had overheard.  
"Five minutes. She's stable. We just want to staunch this scalp wound's flow a little better." Brice told him. "Some of it's arterial."

"Standing by." Robert waved. Then he turned back a sharp focus on his men who were literally building supports to hold up the top of the hole and the passageway leading beyond it. He could barely see five feet within it, the darkness was so great.  
::No wonder she was screaming, what a nightmare.:: he thought.

Brice looked up at Roy. "You disappointed that she didn't have signs of first aid done on her, too?"

"Yeah. I was kind of hoping that Johnny would have left his mark, you know?"

"We're on a hot trail, DeSoto. That's sure better than yesterday."

Roy nodded in agreement eagerly and bent down low to check on Chloe's mental status once more.

Photo: Roy and other firefighters straining against a collapsing wall.

Photo: USAR rescuers holding an unconscious child in their arms.

Photo: Roy looking tense in a helmet by a cement wall.

Photo: A child's arm receiving an intravenous injection.

Photo: A cracked oxygen tank with a mask being held on blow by.

Photo: A dazed girl getting head wrapped to control bleeding.

Photo: Roy and Brice in turnouts, discussing events, distracted.

***************************************************  
From: patti k ()  
Sent:Thu 11/25/10 10:25 PM Subject: Fresh Eyes...

The freeway was utterly devoid of evacuation traffic. They had all been redirected away from the sea a half day ago.

Frank Poncherello and Jon Baker were travelling slowly along a cliff top highway on their motorcycles, parallelling the coastline. Every so often, they'd pull over onto the deserted margin and peer down the drop off to the rocks below to look for survivors from wave destroyed boats or cars on the beach level highway that used to course below them.

There wasn't much of its pavement left. Only twisted guard rails and water scoured, mud filled craters.

Ponch took off his helmet as he set one foot on a rock to peer over the edge. There was nothing left of the wide sand margin that he knew used to be Roy Rogers State Park off of the PCH. That freeway, didn't exist any more. "One. Two. Three.. " he counted,  
squinting through his dry sea salted sunglasses. "Four bodies, Jon.  
And a charter fishing boat, keeled. Its sails are still up so I assume it was manned when the tsunamis struck. Air pockets seem very unlikely. I can see surface water all the way to the top where the exposed hull's been cracked open."

"Identifying name?"

"HMS Moonstruck."

"Got it." he said, writing down notes onto their disaster scene survey pad. "Anything or anyone hung up on the cliff rocks?" Baker asked. "We're at mile marker 14."

"Nothing." Ponch said grimly. "There's just those dead beach goers floating out along the kelp line. It's a sheer face. No one would have been able to climb that at all to get away. Not without climbing gear.  
And who packs any mountain gear for a picnic lunch at the beach?" he snapped.

"We'll find somebody, Ponch. We always do. All we have to do is cover enough ground." Jon said softly, resting a glove on Frank's dirty shoulder.

"I know that, partner. It's just so frustrating. Here we have all of this special EMS training and we haven't been able to use any of it yet for a whole entire day." said Frank. "I'm getting sick of tallying corpses."

"Come on. One more mile. Then we'll break for dinner back at USAR Base Camp, all right?" Baker suggested.

"Okay." said Ponch, suddenly emotionally tired. "One more go."

On the next stop, their elevated highway had taken them around a corner that led to a wide view of the bay where the Vincent Thomas Toll Bridge used to be. They could see a flurry of activity by some rescue boats and soon, a Coast Guard helicopter began hovering over a caisson remnant practically in the middle of it.

"Where is that exactly?" Frank asked, pointing.

"That's.." Jon held up a gloved hand with fingers pointed sideways along the horizon, measuring eyeballed horizontal handspans, one by one. "Caisson number four, I think. Looks like USAR, Baywatch, and the L.A. County firefighters have found somebody. Maybe even our two missing ambulance folk." he hoped.

Ponch didn't take his eyes away from the stokes stretcher slowly being hoisted up to the receiving hatch of the chopper. "Nah, uh.  
I don't buy that. That just doesn't wash."

"Are you trying to be funny?" Baker asked, faintly disgusted.

"No, G*d no. Just think about it, Jon. That dead EMT Mel Turner bailed Mayfair Three immediately after he spotted the wave coming according to Captain Cooper. And both he and that rig were found swept up, still fairly intact, on the beach. The physics in my head about of all that moving water at the speed in which it came says, there's no way in H*ll that rig was ever out as far as caisson four to ride that wave back the same distance without being thoroughly disintegrated first. There's got to be at least three quarters of a mile separating us and where those rescuers are working right now."

Jon considered. "I'll buy that." He bit his lip. "So... What's the closest point you think it was then in actuality? I don't trust my own guesses. You've always beaten me hands down when it comes to thinking out any accident reconstruction models."

"Caisson One." Ponch said with absolute certainty.

"You're sure about that?"

"I'll bet my badge on it." Frank said seriously.

Jon just nodded and hurried back to his bike. He jammed his helmet back onto his head and pulled on his leather gloves again. "Could they have missed a pocket or two out there? I remember earlier radio traffic this morning which said that they checked Caisson One with dogs and didn't find any signs."

"Again, seawater's powerful. I can see scents being disintegrated just as easily as I can boats, cars and ambulances." Ponch said. "Maybe all the traces that search dogs can line up on are gone. Maybe what clues are left can be found with human brain power. Remember, they were in a hurry. And when they were on Caisson One, it was hardly dawn yet. The light levels weren't that good then to see much of anything. Remember that fog bank?"

Ponch's infectious probability dabbling won Baker over. Jon finally nodded.  
"Okay. After lunch, let's head back there and take a look at USAR's painted markers. That part's still motorcycle accessible off the peninsul-." He broke off at Ponch's suddenly doubting look about his level of actual commitment.  
"Ponch, I'm agreeing with you. It doesn't hurt going over the area a second time in my book."

Frank pegged him with another eager stare.  
"The fire department doesn't control us, remember? They can't order us away, even if they wanted to." Ponch grinned toothily.

"No, but they can call in the regular police if they think what we're doing risks life and limb without a reasonable just cause."

"So we'll be careful. I still wanna go play Sherlock. Just don't fall into a crack and die, Jon." Ponch said, shaking a finger at his partner in jest.

Baker smiled. "Same goes for you, too, partner." he said, grinning right back. "Okay, you win. Let's go see if we can try to find our friends using CHiP tactics and analyses."

"I'm with you all the way. What's a tsunami when you think about it? It's just another accident, right? A really big, wet one."

"Yeah, and no tire marks." Baker scoffed.

Soon, both CHiP officers were screaming back along the lonely highway for USAR Base Camp, stationed on the high hill next to bridge entry point one.  
-

Photo: A monster traffic jam twelve lanes wide.

Photo: Ponch and Jon standing by an empty Squad 51.

Photo: A hand holding an HT handy talkie.

Photo: A capsized boat in the sea.

Photo: Coast Guard frogmen about to leap into the ocean from a hovering chopper runner.

Photo: A road barricaded just before flash flood damage on dry land.

Photo: A ground tilted broken pair of elevated freeways.

Photo: Ponch near his motorcycle.

Photo: A pile of concrete rubble and a car perched on top of it.

Photo: CHiPs Ponch and Jon racing down the highway on cycles.

From:patti k () Sent:Tue 11/30/10 10:58 AM Subject: Initial Findings...

Bellingham was hoisted up into the Coast Guard chopper to attend the little girl who had been found inside of caisson four. He took the notes that Roy and Brice had taken on her condition from the frogman who had retrieved her. "Still conscious?" he shouted, slipping on a communications helmet.

"Yeah. Her name is Chloe." replied the wet suited Guardsman. "Breathing got a little fast on the way up. I.V.'s TKO."

"Bump it up to full flow now that we're done jostling her around."

"Yes, sir. By the way, Rampart's full. We're heading for Sinai."

Bellingham nodded at the news. Then the blond haired moustached paramedic looked down at his young patient. "Hi." he said to Chloe, who was still gripping the edges of the stokes so hard that her knuckles were white. He was heartened to see that she could focus on him even though she didn't say anything. A pulse check confirmed for him what he thought was bothering her. "You watched, huh?"

She blinked very fast, still terrified. "Y-You firemen do this every day?" she peeped, not really calming down after her aerial cable lift experience.  
"We're so high up."

"Piece of cake." he said, flashing his warm teeth at her. He began to fuss over getting another BP. "I'll be with you all the way to the hospital. How's the head?"

"What head?" the girl panted numbly. She didn't even seem to register that she was strapped down onto a spine board inside of a solidly secured head block and cervical collar. Her breaths were fast and short.

Bellingham glanced up at the Guardsman in puzzlement. "Did she faint?"

The diver shook his head.  
"They had to use Diazepam. She panicked through a hole." he reported.

Bob nodded, looking down. "Never mind, Chloe." he said kindly, patting her shoulder. "Can you tell me who you were with before you found yourself with those other drivers behind that wall?"

"I was with.. my school group from... Hickory Elementary on a field trip."  
she said quickly. Her voice was jerky, but strong, fogging up her oxygen mask in spite of the fast flow inside of it.

"Do you know where your classmates are now?" Bellingham encouraged,  
thinking ahead about possible new trapped victims.

Chloe's mouth worked, twitching spastically. Almost a full minute passed by before she spoke again. "I got scared after we hit the car in front of us. I think I jumped out the side door. I remember running down the road as fast as I could to get away from the big wave. When I looked back to see if anybody else had followed me,.." she broke off, her eyes unblinking and dull from the sedative Roy had given her. "..they were gone. There was nothing behind me any more. Then the road under me fell and I fell with it."

Bellingham reconnected the leads from her EKG cables back to a portable monitor. "Believe it or not. That was two days ago."

"It was?" shivered Chloe, still tightly finger locked on the handle bars of her stokes.

"Uh, huh." he smiled. "It's Saturday." he said, covering her up snugly with a wool blanket over the shock sheet.

"Wow. I'm not... even hungry." she panted, still bugged eyed and gape mouthed.

"You probably won't be. You've been through quite an adventure." Bob told her. "Just try to relax a little more." he said, finally finding the dose she had been given on Roy's paramedic notes. "Chloe, are you in any pain right now?"

"No." she answered, still staring dully around the chopper without seeing it.

"Okay." he smiled, trying to get her to make eye contact by leaning over her face. "Think you can make your fingers let go yet?"

Her eyes closed. Chloe panted brokenly a few more times under her oxygen mask. Then she held her breath and slowly uncurled them with a concerted effort, sobbing.

"There you go. You're all right. You're still okay." Bob told her, gripping them in comfort as he helped her fold them onto her stomach.

"Why do they feel funny? They're all stiff!" she said, her voice rising, as her eyes flew back open.

"That's because you were clenching them so hard. Chloe, you're fine. Scared, but fine. Nothing bad is going to happen to you any more. I'm keeping you safe. That's my job. Now your job right now is to settle down before you start panicking again, all right? I don't want to have to give you any more of that medicine that is making you feel so weird right now."

Chloe shook with the fear she was feeling that only now was beginning to show on her sedation slack face. "What?"

Bellingham kept the smile on his face.  
"Try and slow your breathing here. That's why you're dizzy. It's too fast for lying down, okay?" Bellingham told her, holding her shoulders. "That's most of the weird going on right now inside of you."

"Okay.." she gasped. "I'll try."

"Take a deep breath, and then hold it as long as you can. That'll help. I'll be right here. I'm not going anywhere." he encouraged, glancing up at the racing heartbeat on her monitor casually, thoroughly unconcerned.

Chloe fought her emotions and won as her hyperventilation was slowly self controlled. "Mom tells me to do that, too." she said when it was over. "It's one of my exercises."

"Your mom? It's good advice. What's her name?"

"Victoria."

"What's her last name?" he said, peering at her eyes with a pen light, one by one. They were sluggish from the sedative, but normal.

"Johnson."

"And you both live in Torrance?" he said pocketting the light.

"Yes. On Opal Street."

"Okay, Chloe Johnson from Opal Street. Nice to meet you." he said,  
shaking her hand. "I'm Bob Bellingham from Fern Avenue. And I went to the same school as you when I was little so I guess that makes us neighbors."

"Really?" she asked, wide eyed, grasping for any shred of normalcy.

Bob narrowed his eyes at her appraisingly in a challenge. "In the playground,  
there is a tree next to the yellow swing set by the flag pole. If you squeeze in between the fence and the tree there is a secret niche next to it that all the kids go to in order to carve their initials into the bark, sight unseen, with a pair of scissors borrowed from art class."

"You did go to Hickory!" she smiled for the first time, hugely. "You won't tell any one about the tree?" she asked, her face immediately waxing into worry.

"On playground honor, I won't tell a soul." he chuckled, holding up boy scout pledging fingers. "Never have, until now."

"When I get better, mom and I are going to go back to look for yours on the tree." she yawned, finally relaxing her entire body as she let go of her will.

"Look for B.B.. It's there." he told her.

"I will." she said, fighting to keep her eyes open as sheer exhaustion set in.  
"Thank you, Mr. Bellingham."

"See? Nothing wrong with your memory. You're going to be just fine, C.J."

"Yep, that's me. And I got my initials higher up than anyone's." The little girl was smiling as she fell quickly asleep. "I dare you to go look if you don't b-" She fell silent, snoring peacefully.

Bob corrected her airway by readjusting a chin strap and smiled right back at her tenderly, thinking of his own daughter the same age who was safely evacuated away from the coastline.

He raised a signal on his biophone and got a doctor to respond to his call for a patient condition report. "Sinai Base, this is Squad 51. How do you read?"

##This is Dr. Benobi, go ahead.## came a voice.

"Sinai, we've a female aged ten years, victim of a bridge collapse, initially suffering from an acute anxiety attack. She has numerous self inflicted cuts and abrasions about her face, arms and hands with a larger one on the back of the head. Bleeding has been controlled. We've established an I.V. D5W and had to use emergency Valium. Anxiety effects have been neutralized.  
Vital signs are: B.P. post sedation is 74 over 50, pulse 110 and regular,  
pupils are equal and reactive. Respirations have settled from hyperventilations to... eighteen and shallow, without distress. Patient has been C-Spine immobilized for precautionary measures and is on 100% O2. Stand by for a strip. This will be Lead II." he reported.

##Standing by, 51.##

Roy DeSoto and Craig Brice were crawling deep inside the crack leading away from the hole in which they had rescued the little girl. They were following behind four USAR firefighters, armed with headlamps and safety ropes.

"Carbon dioxide's building. They're around here somewhere. Look sharp."  
said one of them, studying the air sniffer's small screen.

The crevasse between concrete slabs suddenly widened into a small maintance room through a hole in a wall and inside they all heard a familiar moan. It was the male victim they had heard when Captain Cooper had called out using his megaphone ten minutes earlier.

"Split up!" said the team's lieutenant. "Keep down until you find some head room."  
"Blood over here." said Brice, seeing some by his glove as he slowly stood up in the larger space.

"And here." said another fireman.

"I'm coming over there." said DeSoto in the darkness to Brice and the others.

Their tiny pools of battery light finally converged onto a pair of feet. A male victim. "Here's one!" said Roy working his way headward.

"I found one, too. A female. Looks like she's been impaled through the abdomen."  
reported Brice. "She's alive." he said after a quick pulse check. "Bleeding's minimal.  
It's being dammed up." Brice said. "I want nobody jostling that rod until we've got a pair of I.V.s going in wide open."

The USAR team members finished their searching sweep of the space. "I've got another older female over here." said another. "Pulse's irregular."

"Is she conscious?"

"No." replied the firefighter. "Breathing's adequate."

"I'll be right there." said Brice. "Check her for anything life threatening." he said,  
crawling to the first woman's side to take a look at her impalement injury. "Floor to ceiling, huh?" he muttered, checking out the angling of the rod piercing her body.  
"A torch will handle this better than a saws-all." he suggested to the USAR team surrounding him.

"I agree." said the USAR man with him who was monitoring the woman's vital signs.

Brice looked over his shoulder. "Roy, how's your man?"

"Awake, but confused. I can't find anything wrong with him." DeSoto replied about the first man they had found. "The blood around him's not his."

"That might be the little girl's. Pre-existing condition?" Brice asked.

"Most likely. Pulse's weak." Then he thought of something. He leaned down and checked the smell of the man's breath. "Craig, his breath is sweet."

"Ketoacidosis."

"Yep. I'll get an insulin drip going. Then I'll check out that other woman."

A crackle came over their HTs. ##USAR One to USAR Two. Progress report?## came Cooper's voice. He was still back at the entrance to the hole leading to the way out, monitoring his men.

"Three victims in a breached room at one hundred twelve feet on the rope." replied a firefighter to Robert. "Two females and a male, one is trapped by impalement.  
We're going to need cutting gear and mast trousers along with their stokes."

Brice nodded in affirmation, flashing a thumbs up at the idea.

##10-4, I'll get things prepped. Two of you work your way back along the rope for the gear. I'll have it ready in three.##

"10-4."

Brice looked up from the BP he was getting on the abomen stabbed woman.  
"Roy, you don't look happy."

"We can't ask them about Rosalie and Johnny. They're in no condition to talk."  
DeSoto replied.

"So let's wake up the man and then ask him. It shouldn't take long to get his blood sugar back down to normal levels. He's the best candidate for that."

"You're right." Roy nodded.

"No, I'm just guessing. As soon as we evacuate these three, we can go on searching the area. Bound to be some clues turning up soon." Brice said.

"I sure hope so." Roy muttered, quickly swabbing a place down on the man's arm in which to start his I.V. "Nobody's looking for them harder than we are."

Photo: Coast Guard guiding a cable attached stokes.

Photo: Coast Guard pilot eyeballing a scene below.

Photo: An unconscious, cut bloodied little girl.

Photo: Brice Bellingham looking down.

Photo: USAR crawling around a confined space.

Photo: Roy DeSoto finding something in the dark.

Photo: A confined space revealing two victims, one impaled.

Photo: A stuperous man wearing an oxygen mask.

Animation: A Coast Guard helicopter hovering.

**************************************************  
From:patti k () Sent:Thu 12/02/10 1:05 PM Subject: A Breather...

Dr. Brackett found Dixie by the Logistics table in Triage. She was reading a message from CA-2. She saw Kel as she was sitting down onto a chair wearily, clutching the note with dubious enthusiasm.

"Another change?" he asked, giving her a hug along with a fresh cup of coffee.

She gratefully accepted both. "Oh, bless you. I think my blood's half coffee by now, but oh, well." she said toasting him with it before downing the whole cup in a few expert swallows. McCall let out a long satisfied sigh afterwards. "Oh, that's good." she shivered in pleasure with a huge smile. Then she frowned. "To answer your question, yeah, another one. Only this time, I'm not so sure it's a good idea."

"Oh? What did the chief say?" Kel asked.

"He's standing down all of Mayfair Company for the rest of the night. Including me. Seems a backup company from Nevada's here and can cover our routes now."

Dr. Brackett didn't look away from her. "Go. No.. Run. While you still can. Joe, Mike and I can handle it here easily until morning. Things have hit a lull strangely enough. The coroner's services are now busier than we are."

She smacked him a good one, lightly, across the shoulder."Tell me that isn't due to a failing on our part?"

"It's not. From the EMS perspective, that's a plus. It means that we've kept up with the demand and excelled at it. The body count now is just a reflection of the size and scope of this disaster. It's running the length of the state, Dix. It's anywhere there's a coastline or elevation less than twenty five feet above sea level and up to a quarter of a mile inland. I give it another day before first responder injuries and illnesses start cropping up due to errors in judgment because of fatigue. Battalion's trying to offset that effect before it happens. That curve will only rise when victim numbers among the general public.."

"...start outstripping our rescue services, causing higher personnel casualties.  
Mainly, for not keeping safe enough while working." she said dryly.

Kel smirked. "I see you've attended the same disaster management classes I have." he sighed.

"Par for the course, Kel. A head of a department is a head of a department, nursing or doctoring. We're both in white." she shrugged matter of factly.

"Hmmmm." he agreed, stretching out sore muscles as he got way too comfortable in the chair next to hers. He closed his eyes, briefly giving in to the weariness that was sagging even his skin. "Trade you places." he sighed. "You can have it." he said spreading his arms wide from where he slouched.

"Nah Uhh. No way. That lab coat is allll yours, including the job that matches the size of what we nurses call your paycheck." she chuckled.

"It's big." he nodded in grudging surrender about their disaster assignments and an honest opinion about his salary.

"Yep. So enjoy. I guess I'm out of here." she capitulated, rising gingerly out of her chair to her very tender feet. "But I'll be d*mn*ed if I'm gonna sleep through any of this."

Kel grinned.

She turned back to him. "You already know where I'm heading. Want me to poke around a little once I get there to see how things are going?"

"Yeah, could you do that? Seems like our usual busy hospital stomping grounds are suddenly a very small place compared to what we've lived through the last forty eight hours." said Dr. Brackett. "It would be nice to hear of news from home." he said seriously. "Give my regards to Sharon when you see her?"

Dixie nodded and blew him a kiss as she ambled tiredly away. "I will. Watch your rear, Kel, or I'm gonna kick it up to your teeth if I find out you're overdoing it."

He made a shooting shotgun in acknowledgement to extend the same threat right back at her, but lightly.

"Annoying having a boyfriend. I think I might try going single for a while."

"You already have for eight years. I can wait a little longer." he promised.

She swiped an arm in his direction for him to pipe it down as she giggled.

"Thanks for the lift, Vince." Dixie said as she opened up the black and white squad car's passenger door.

"No problem. I'm on my way to pick up a parent for a child Squad 51's flying to Sinai." he replied.

She waved and started heading for Rampart's emergency doors.

"Oh, and Dixie?"

"Yeah?"

"Flash your badge and they'll let you in. They're still in lock down." Howard told her.

"Oh, you mean like this?" she asked, posing, suggestively coquettish, showing him some fully trousered nursing uniformed leg from around the fire jacket that Brice had given her to use for warmth from the night before.

Vince blushed crimson and tire squealed out of the drop off lane before he had to reply back.

Dixie smirked. "Even half dead from lack of sleep, I still got it." she grinned,  
trudging up to the doors to ring the night bell. *Rinnnng.*

The hospital intercom snicked into life. ##This is Rampart Emergency, what's yours?## said a very familiar voice. It was Betty. Dixie glanced up to see that the outer security camera light was on the air and realized the beef was up.

"It's me." Dixie replied, rolling her eyes at the depressed talk button under her thumb.

##Who?## challenged a second warm voice. This time recognizable as Carol.

Dixie cocked her jaw, hearing the jest fully in her coworker's voice and didn't lose her exterior cool, but her smile leadened just a bit."Little pig, little pig, let me in!" she stage whispered, more bite than purr.

##Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin..## replied Betty, tittering.

"Well you've sure got enough of them." McCall groused, trying to hurry the joke along.

##Oooo...## came a chorus from the clustering staff at the security desk listening in.

Dixie planted her feet and plied the Voice. "Then I'll huff and I'll puff,..  
and I'll-"

##Wait a minute, guys. Hurry up and buzz the door or she'll actually do it.##  
said Sharon Walters urgently, naively worried.

Dixie just shook her head, beaming from ear to ear as she traipsed past the secondary door electronically unlocked for her.

"Sorry, Dixie." Walters demurred once they were face to face.

McCall passed off her fire jacket to her counterpart with a shrug.  
"It's all right. We all get the same sense of lame humor during times like these. I know. I've been doing it long enough myself." she smiled.  
"How's it going?" she asked, casting an appraising eye all around the crowded, but quiet, hallway they had entered.

Sharon took in a deep breath, ready with an answer. "Everyone's been poked, prodded, x-rayed, categorized, and interviewed,.. but some haven't been treated past rehydration or basic life threat management. We've about a hundred or so, still lining the hallways on every floor."

Dixie merely nodded, not reaching for Sharon's incident sheets on her clip board. McCall crossed her arms in every semblance of close listening.

Walters finally caved in. "I feel like I'm moving from one staff-to-patient conundrum to the next." Sharon moaned, letting off her stress dramatically.

McCall just smiled. "That tight roped, teeth clenching, gut reaction you've just described is absolutely normal. Happens to everyone suffering middle management as a job." Dixie replied, hitching a hip onto a counter top.

Sharon just slumped on the stool behind the main emergency desk after tossing Dixie's fire turnout carelessly over her shoulder and onto the floor.

Her reaction just made Dixie's grin deepen even further.

"Oh, yeah?" Walters asked sullenly. "So what's the antidote?"

"That's easy. It's handling one-"

"...one thing at a time." Sharon parroted eagerly, wide eyed. "Oh, I figured that out. It's sort of forced on you all the stronger, the more physically crowded you get with visitor and patient numbers." Walters sucked in her breath, analyzing. "But it's far from easy. I feel like a student again."

"All true." said Dixie, holding out her hand warmly. "Congratulations. You're officially a head nurse in my book. Now all you have to do is turn gray. Then people will actually start trying to listen to what you have to say to them."

"Only then? Dixie, I'm still young." she countered. She immediately backtracked at the look on Dixie's face. "I didn't mean it that way. I.. oh, you know what I meant." she said, crossing her arms over each other self consciously.

McCall immediately pulled them down."Appearance is everything. It helps oodles, I've found, if you don't give them any choices to haggle over. Just say it like it is. Then jump straight into what the consequences are going to be if they don't follow your angle."

"I'm not a toughie. You are." Sharon sighed.

Dixie pegged Sharon on the nose to cheer her. "The secret is to never break eye contact. Ever. Not until you've said every word on your mind about an issue."

"Really?"

"Mmm Hmm. You see, management doesn't require any physical strength. Not like firefighting or police work. All it takes is a little moxy, finessing, and a whole lotta up front in-your-face, disguised with some class. Act like you know what you're doing. And that'll take you miles."

Sharon looked skeptical.

Dixie just waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, just give it a while. You'll figure it out. Watch me corral both Roy and Johnny some time with my lion eyes move. I can make them do anything I want business wise.." McCall yawned hugely.  
"..even without saying a single solitary word."

Walters studied Dixie thoughtfully for a few moments. Then she rose from her seat to go fetch a fresh pot of coffee that had finished brewing. She offered it to Dixie who shook her head vigorously in the negative.

"I'm way beyond the caffeine cure." she sniffed. "The only thing that'll save this girl is a hot shower in the resident's locker room and warm bed. Here." she said,  
pulling her Mayfair HT out of her pocket. "I'll sleep better if this isn't in range of my highly skilled nursing ears."

"For what do you want me to wake you?" Walters asked.

"Don't." she shrugged. "It can't get any worse than it already is."

"You've got a point there. Happy dreams, Nurse McCall." Sharon beamed as Dixie abandoned her down the hallway to the tune of the prospect of a long, hot shower and comfy sheets.

"I'm not here. Shhh..." McCall pantomimed, as she danced quietly away.

Walters immediately felt better, just having her around, however invisibly.

Photo: Brackett and Dixie studying each other by a cabinet.

Photo: CA-2 by an Incident Command board.

Photo: Brackett grinning fondly.

Photo: Dixie looking tired with long hair.

Photo: Rampart's ER entrance in a far shot.

Photo: Vince grinning through a truck door.

Photo: Dixie and Sharon talking in a hallway.

Photo: Sharon Walters, beaming in close up.

Photo: An empty Rampart hallway.

Photo: Dixie walking down a hall quietly.

**************************************************  
From: patti k () Sent:Mon 12/06/10 1:49 PM Subject: Price.. Brice called out to the USAR lieutenant by the second unconscious woman.  
"What are you finding?" he asked as he cut away the clothes on the first to see how the metal rod had impaled her body.

"Fractures in the left upper arm with gross deformation, abdomen's distended and hard in all quadrants."

"Is she child bearing age?" Craig wondered.

"Uh, yeah."

"Then go ahead and listen for a second heartbeat. If there isn't one there then it's major trauma causing that swollen belly instead of pregnancy. If you hear one, roll her in line onto her left side to improve circulation to the fetus. Look for external bleeding everywhere and get her on some high flow oxygen." Brice ordered.

"Yes, sir."

DeSoto worked fast on his own man, the diabetic. He was obtaining finger stick blood onto a test strip. The reader beeped and a numeral popped up. "He's at 348."

"Is that bad?" asked the firefighter with him providing airway support.

"It can be, but not right away. That high level is why his skin's hot, dry and red with that deep, rapid breathing. His body's trying to compensate for his high blood sugar. Craig, I'm injecting a maximum dosage of insulin here. He's uninjured."  
Roy said out loud. "He'll have a good chance waking up then out of this near coma."

"What's his pressure?" Craig wondered about the man.

"200 systolic. But his heart's handling it okay. Blood pressure's still equal in both arms." Roy told him.

"So no stroke or aneurysm problems yet." Craig speculated.

"Right. How's the girl over there?" DeSoto countered, noting the rod running through her. "It's not pulsating from what I can see."

"She's staying lucky, DeSoto. Pulse, pressure, and respirations are all normal.  
I wouldn't be surprised if this metal strip missed everything vital. Her color's good and she's getting somewhat reactive to pain already on the O2." Brice shared.

"Psychosomatic L.O.C.?" Roy asked.

"That'd be my guess. It sure isn't dehydration keeping her blacked out. Her skin still has good turgor."

"Maybe Chloe was bringing her water when she needed it." Roy said.  
He looked over at Brice as USAR team members deftly cut the rod about a foot above the wound. "Did it penetrate all of the way through her?"

Brice dug a hole in the soil underneath the woman and shoved a flat handed glove cautiously under her back, checking. "Yes." he said.

"Okay, this is the game plan." Roy said to USAR's waiting men. "It's going to be this man first, then the woman with the broken arm followed by the last girl with that impalement for our chopper evacuation order."

"But-" sputtered one fireman, pointing at the rod sticking out of their last patient.

Roy smiled at him reassuringly. "She's really doing okay in spite of how it looks. It's acting only like a little bit larger than normal needle stick for all the harm it's doing to her. See?" he said, turning Brice's EKG monitor around so the man could see its calm, regular sinus rhythm. "It looks worse than it is. She's out because she probably thought a worst case scenario for herself and fainted on us here." he said.

Brice took charge at the second woman's side once he discovered that the first wasn't hemorrhaging much from around the rod. "Did you find one?"

"Yeah. There's a baby in there." the firefighter remarked.

"What else?" Brice asked.

"Nothing else. Ah, maybe a bump on the head. Her hair's matted down with blood on the back of her neck." he said. "It didn't seem too bad."

Brice bent over listening for a fetal heartbeat with his stethoscope."Roy.  
It's suppressed. Very slow."

"And the mother's?" DeSoto wondered.

"Just as slow."

"Better take a look at it." he warned Brice.

"Take a look at what?" the firefighter at the woman's head asked.

Craig ignored him and felt behind both the mother's ears. "Soft, Battle's sign.  
And her neck is really st-" Suddenly the mother's arms began to curl up into fists over her chest and her toes pointed and turned inward in a spasm at Brice's light touch to the base of her skull. "Don't let her move!" he shouted.

Roy hurried over to help at once. "She's posturing. That's the base of the brain, Craig."

"I know. Doesn't look good."

The woman's breaths began to get deeper and faster in shuddering gasps under her oxygen mask. "Cheynes Stokes." Roy noticed. Then her breathing slowed and almost ceased before starting back up again into great heaves of effort.

Roy pulled out the defib paddles and scoped her. "Junctional, falling into bradycardia." he said with worry. He grabbed out his stethoscope and began listening to the baby again inside of her womb. "Baby's distressed."

"I've just lost a pulse!" said the young USAR fireman, feeling her neck around the collar that Brice had placed there.

Craig confirmed it on their small scope. "V-fib."

Roy turned a bright shade of ghastly white when he realized the change.

Brice grabbed Roy's hand that was holding the drum of the stethoscope over the woman's skin. Craig snatched it away and out of his ears. "Don't listen, Roy. Don't do it."

"Maybe we can-" DeSoto mumbled.

"No, she just died. And triage protocols are very clear. Roy, listen to me,  
the baby's too small to save. It's maybe only barely at three months of age judging from her size and presentation. Let the baby go." Brice said, his voice cracking. But he still held Roy's shoulders firmly. Roy felt Brice grip his face to redirect his eyes up into Craig's own."Look at me. You know this is right. Her brain's herniated." Brice told him.

Roy's lip trembled as tears flooded out as he forced himself to lift his hands away from the woman's still belly. He got to his feet and quietly returned to the man's side, who was just beginning to mumble as his blood returned to normal chemistry.

The USAR firefighter grew stonily silent in face and voice as he quickly covered up the dead mother and her dying unborn child with a tarp. "I'm so sorry, ma'am." he whispered. "May you both find your way in peace."

"Let's go work on the girl." Brice told him softly.

USAR left them lying in total darkness, taking their flashlights and medical equipment with them.

Roy had barely finished wiping his running nose clear when his patient reawakened. "Easy, mister. Just relax. You're going to be fine." he said, taking his hand.

Photo: Roy and Brice in turnouts on a scene.

Photo: Victims trapped in a dark confined space.

Photo: A USAR firefighter with a rod impaled woman.

Photo: Roy looking lost by a patient.

Photo: A dead bloodied woman's face and Triage tag.

***************************************************  
From:patti k ()  
Sent:Wed 12/08/10 6:11 AM Subject: Coda...

Henry was barking behind the automatic door when the heavily equipment stripped Engine 51 returned to the station. Mike Stoker hit the opener and the door retracted, revealing the impatient basset hound pacing in the bay. The engineer pulled back into the Ward's usual place in the garage carefully, mindful of him.

Henry wasn't waiting for them well, still barking pogniantly from where he moved to stand in the squad's vacant parking space.

"He knows, Cap." said Chet, stepping down from the cab. Kelly immediately went over to comfort him even before he took off his jacket or dusty helmet. "We're doing everything we can to find him, Big Guy. Don't you worry." he crooned, petting him vigorously.

"How the heck did he find out?" Marco wondered, too tired to leave the running board he had plunked down onto wearily.

Stoker took Lopez's helmet and hung it up with the other two he had gathered from the rest of the gang along with his own inside of the La France. "Nothing miraculous there. He can tell we're still upset."

"From half a mile away?" Marco asked. "I heard him baying even before we turned onto Wilmington."

Cap shrugged. "We've been gone for two days, Marco. He's probably figured it out that that's too long for any normal emergency call for us." Hank, too, knelt down to pay Henry some apologetic affection. "You're a good boy, Henry, yes you are. We brought you some canned beef since you've been stuck with the dry stuff since Thursday morning.  
Marco, that feeding chore's yours." he said, plucking it out of his turnout's pocket and holding it up. Then he looked around the bay in the dim emergency battery lighting and saw that tables full of food shelf items had been partially set up. "Hey, the Red Cross is here. Be nice to them, guys.  
But tell them nothing about what it's like out there. That's a job for their bosses. We're here to recuperate." he ordered hoarsely, fatigued to the bone.

"Where are they?" Kelly asked, peering about in the darkness.

"Where do you think?" Lopez smiled, brandishing the can of dog food. "Smell that?" he asked, crossing over and cracking the door leading to the kitchen and rec area beyond. Out poured the odor of sauteeing onions and steak.

"Wow, that smells terrific!" Chet said. "Let's go bum a set of meals off of them. They're supposed to feed us, right?"

"That's right." Mike agreed. "We're still on duty."

They filed on into the kitchen area.

"Hello there." Cap said warmly as the four of them entered.

Three middle aged women wearing disaster relief aprons looked up from the stove and oven.

"From the Torrance Chapter?" Hank wondered.

"Carson, acually." beamed a larger white haired lady who had control of a frying pan full of very appetizing T-bones. "We're new."

A red, curly haired woman nearly the same age smiled hugely as she looked up from a bowl of mashed potatoes she was whipping up with chives. "Sit yourselves down, boys. You can eat all you'd like. And we've already turned down your bunks for you."

"This looks fantastic!" said Stoker, eyeing up the table set with a good spread of salads, fruit, chicken and bread. "Need any help?"

The last worker, an Italian gal whose hair was set into a severe bun just frowned good naturedly at him. "In your dreams. You did your job. Let us do ours. We're feeding anyone who walks through your fire station doors regardless of who they are. We're assigned here for the duration of the disaster or until the government takes over our task at other locations. Those were our orders from your fire chief. All costs and supplies have been paid for by the county."

"We also have been calling paramedics in, using your payphone, for anybody that looks like they've been flattened by those waves out there in a serious way." said the first Red Cross volunteer. "I'm Ann,.." she introduced. Then she pointed to the spuds cook. "That's Char, and Miss-Let-Us-Do-It here is Maria Rose. She's just joined up."

"Charmed." said Maria Rose with a little knee bend curtsy for the firefighters. "Now park." she told the gang no nonsense. "..So you can get the best square meal you've had in days." she tempted.

Bark! said Henry.

The gang sat with alacrity.

"Thank you ma'am, ladies.." said Hank. "Has our dog here been behaving himself okay around you and your people?"

Char replied. "Oh, he's been absolutely adorable. He lets us know when the access door rings when we're too busy to notice."

"And he's been cheering up all the kids." replied Ann.

"Kids?" Kelly asked, pausing in mid collar napkin tucking.

"Oh, don't worry." Ann told him. "Anyone non-firefighter here gets shipped off to the high school for sleeping space. The National Guard has put up a tent and cot city there."

Cap set a very full plate down in front of himself after dishing out his own portions.  
"And what about you four?" he asked. "We could hang a few blankets up as a divider in the bunk room for more privacy." he offered.

"No need." said Char. "The Red Cross management gave us a sleeper bus to go along with the canteen van. They're parked out back in the yard." she replied. "We have to be able to mobilize on a moment's notice." she explained.

"Sounds familiar." Chet bemoaned.

Char pegged him with a look that spoke volumes. "We may not put out fires, but we still response to every fire call you do." she chuckled. "Now shut up and eat. Lights out in half an hour." she bristled in mock.

Maria Rose added more. "Shower towels are all lined up on the bench in the locker room with full toiletries."

"Wow." Chet remarked. "You'd think this old place was suddenly a five star hotel. Thanks."

"No, thank you for being in the brunt of it. I don't think any of us could handle all the blood,  
guts and gore quite as well as we do the phone and frying pan. Bon Appetit.." she wished,  
dishing out the steaks to each of them.

Forty five minutes later, stuffed to the gills, Chet, Marco, Hank, and Stoker were showered and getting ready for a long sleep.

"Is it really only seven o'clock?" Chet asked.

"Yep. Feels like forever since we've been back here." Stoker told him as he put on a fresh T-shirt.

"How long do we have to wait?" Kelly asked, voicing what was on everybody else's minds.

Cap sighed, still tense and anxious in spite of the soothing darkness of the familiar bunk room. "Eight hours, guys. Exactly." he clarified. "Then we're back at the pile. I'll make sure of that."

"I'm not going to be able to sleep a wink regardless." said Marco, putting on a pair of socks.

The others muttered assent.

"Say, when are Brice and Bellingham coming back?" Stoker asked.

"In about an hour. They had paperwork to fill out on everybody they treated today."  
Cap replied.

"Sucks to be them." snorted Kelly.

The sound of claws clicking on the linoleum alerted them to Henry's arrival into the room.  
A soft series of whines from him sliced through their hearts unexpectedly.

"Aww. It's okay, Henry. I miss him, too." said Chet, crouching down to pet his long ears affectionately. "Why don't you jump up right here, next to me, for a good snuggling session. It's good therapy, pal."

Lopez watched them both from his deep cocoon of blankets. "I get him next." Marco said.

That started up Stoker's protest about the same thing. "No, me. I didn't get a break today."

"None of us did." Kelly glared at him.

Hank ended the squabble smoothly. "I'm... sure he'll be paying a visit to each of us all night long so bide your time, guys."

Kelly nodded in triumph and helped Henry settle into both of his arms' embrace as he lay back. "Ohh,,, he's nice and warm. Like a furnace." he sniffed. "No couch for you tonight?"

Henry just looked at him in an unblinking stare before laying his head down peacefully onto Kelly's chest with an indignant yawn.

"Wow." said Chet. "Okay, okay. I guess tonight's the big exception."

A snore peeled from Henry almost immediately, sawing wood in a genuine deep sleep.

The soothing buzz of it soon made the gang's eyes heavy as they finally relaxed at the familiar sound.

Five minutes later, sleep reigned all across the bunkroom.  
-

Photo: Henry barking upwards from the driveway.

Photo: The gang all seated at the kitchen table.

Photo: A white haired woman discussing facts.

Photo: A Red Cross canteen window and helpers.

Photo: An Italian woman, smiling.

Photo: The gang getting set for bed.

Photo: Henry looking insistent in the dark.

Photo: Chet sleeping on his bunk.

Photo: Cap sleeping on his bunk.

Photo: All the gang asleep in a dark room.

**************************************************  
From:patti k () Sent:Tue 12/14/10 11:32 AM Subject: Loose Ends...

The sun was just beginning to rise on the morning of the third day.

Kel Brackett left the camper trailer he and the other doctors had been given to use and headed to the food tent to meet up with Mike Morton and Joe Early. For what felt like the billionth time, he looked at his watch,  
noting the hour right down to the current minute. ::Why do I keep doing that?::  
he thought to himself. ::Mulling over survivability curves with or without water intake is going to accomplish absolutely zilch, doctor.:: he admonished in his mind. The look on his face gave him away to his colleagues instantly.

Morton scowled as he handed Kel an empty food tray. "Kel, cut it out. We're not going to be able to get to everyone in time and that's gonna be a fact of life whether you think about it or not. Let the fire department obsess about trapped victims. We're part of the cure, not the problem." he growled, snatching up another apple from a nearby bowl into which he crunched a set of frustrated teeth.

Joe was more than thoughtful. "Are you thinking about the bridge survivors?"

Dr. Brackett's face twitched in surprise that his private thoughts had been so thoroughly guessed. "Well, yes. They're surrounded by seawater. Nothing to drink."

"Injured? Two to four days best case scenario before renal failure without a water source takes its toll." Mike said. "Uninjured? Fairly long. Up to a week to ten days,  
depending on a victim's emotional state." he speculated to help Kel get over it.

"What about the bay's sea fog?" wondered Joe. "That's bound to build up a dew on cool surfaces. I can see condensation tricking down fairly far into nooks and crannies."

Brackett smiled. "Thanks, guys. I needed that. Sometimes my brain works too much for its own good."

"We all do that." said Dr. Early. "It's probably inherent for anyone in the business of life saving, the police, hospital staff.., the fire department..." he listed off.

"And now ambulance companies." added Dr. Morton, reading one of the reports a runner just handed to them. "Congratulations, fellas. We've just reached a rate of four hundred transportations every twenty four hours. Mayfair had the highest of them, followed by We Care and Cadillac Company."

"How many total victims are they talking about, Kel?" asked Early. "Do you have different quotes than I do?" he said, tapping a sheet of paper in front of him.

"I do. Preliminary estimates are projecting ten to twenty thousand dead, twelve hundred or so injured enough to be shipped to triage as red tags, and hundreds of thousands injured to a lesser degree. And those are not counting the ones we may never find out about." he said, buttering a piece of toast soberly.

"Which ones?" Early asked.

Brackett looked at him. "The people who gave up trying to get to a hospital and treated themselves." he replied ironically.

"Do you really think it's come down to that?" Morton wondered in shock.

"Oh, yes." Kel replied. "We became overwhelmed in all our emergency services five minutes after the first wave struck."

Right then, Roy DeSoto entered the tan canvas tent, looking like he was running on vapors. He had on a clean, white Mayfair uniform, but that was it. His face was still dirt stained and his hair messed from wearing a helmet and crawling through small cramped spaces.

Kel smacked Joe and Mike's arms to get their attention to where he was pointing.  
Soon, they both spotted the signs of exhaustion on Roy's face and all three of them decided to intervene.

"Hey, Roy. Hungry?" said Morton brightly. "We grabbed the last plate of bacon here."

DeSoto's legs worked on automatic as he accepted their invite to join them with a lack luster nod.

"Coffee?" Joe added, holding up a pot.

"Sure." Roy said, almost smiling as he sat down, but not quite getting there.

"How are you doing?" Kel asked casually, the question double sided about both his physical and emotional states.

"The truth?" DeSoto croaked hoarsely, his voice worn out from shouting for victims in the debris pile.

Morton, Brackett and Early nodded.

"It's been a long time since I've seen a death toll this high. And some of them have been... really hard to take." he said dully.

Mike leaned forward, no nonsense. "Hey, I was your physician for Caisson Four.  
You saved three out of five victims and that's a very good recovery considering what you had to work with and the conditions you were facing out there."

"Thanks, doc." Roy nodded, still dead pan with fatigue.

"Eat." Morton ordered. "Then one of us is going to go over you in a condition check.  
You didn't show up for any of yours yesterday." he reprimanded. "When did you last get some sleep?"

"Uhhh."

"You're doing it right now. Right after you get some food into you." Mike snapped.

Joe jumped on the bandwagon. "Dixie and the whole Mayfair Company went on mandatory off duty last night. Where were you?"

DeSoto started dishing out eggs onto his plate. When that wasn't happening fast enough to Morton's satisfaction, Mike doubled it with a helping spatula from the serving bowl. "CHiP Headquarters. They needed someone fire department medic to handle a crowd of injured people that showed up there from the highway."

"Umm hmm. We heard about those." Kel replied, pouring Roy orange juice into three glasses. "They were shipped to Long Beach for more treatment following triage."

"Yeah, forty eight total. Two of those died en route, long before they got to the hospital." Roy shared. He began to sip his orange juice gingerly, trying to work around a shrunken stomach's active protests. "I think part of my physical problem is exposure, doctors. The water in the bay's now pretty darn cold because the tidal waves dragged in deep sea water from the bottom. I was on USAR's dive team for a while."

"We can fix that." Brackett grinned. "It's nothing that a little warmth and a lot of food can't cure." he said, tossing DeSoto an extra blanket into which he could wrap himself.

All four of them looked up in surprise when Battalion Nine, assisting CA-2 as a personnel tracker, approached their table. "DeSoto?"

"Yes, chief?"

"Two of your EMTs at Mayfair are AWOL. Command says their accountability tags are still missing as being on duty. A... Baker and Poncherello?" he asked,  
reading the names off a chart.

DeSoto rubbed his face wearily. "They wouldn't have known to report back to the personnel table to sign out after being called off duty, sir. They are Highway Patrol Officers on an exchange program."

"Find out their statuses and report it to Accountability so they don't launch a search and rescue operation on us, looking for them." said the fire chief.

"Yes, sir." Roy told him. He hefted up his radio into a hand and switched frequencies.  
"CHiP Central, this is Mayfair One. Do you know the 10-20 of Seven Marys Three and Four?" Roy asked. "Battalion Nine wants to know on behalf of Accountability."

## Mayfair One, they reported back on duty in the vicinity of Caisson One at 0704 hours. Status: Available.##

"10-4, CHiP Central. Mayfair One out." DeSoto replied.

Battalion crossed off his newly solved personnel problem from his chart. "Thanks,  
DeSoto. Now go off duty for real this time. That's an order. The doctors surrounding you here look like they want to tie you down to the nearest patient cot and poke you to death."

Brackett smothered a chortle. Mike Morton just grinned cattily.

Roy finally sighed. "That just about sums it up. I give in."

The chief leaned down to place a hand on Roy's shoulder. "I heard about Fireman Gage. Don't worry. We'll find him. I've committed USAR 103 as assigned to the task exclusively now that the bulk of S&R is through for our area. Someone in the CHiPs came up with some pretty convincing theories about where he and his EMT might be.  
We got that report from their accident reconstruction department this morning."

Roy fought a serious breaking down at the news. "Thank you, Bill. Johnny and I have been working together for a long time. It's been hard not hearing from him."

"So Hank says. Get some rest. We'll keep you abreast of any developments as they happen." Then Battalion straightened up, after snatching a donut from a box, to go back to IC. "Take care of yourself. I know how you paramedics are. All self sacrificing for your patients' sakes and all that."

DeSoto and the others watched him leave the tent. Finally, Roy began to shovel in his food more enthusiastically.

Kel asked him a question as he watched Roy drain his third orange juice glass dutifully.  
"Do you know anything about the girl with him, medically speaking?"

"Do you mean from the information in her personnel file at Mayfair?" Roy asked around his slow chewing.

Brackett nodded.

"She's as healthy as a horse when it comes to being fit to be an EMT. No pre-existing medical conditions at all. Or allergies." he tacked on.

"That's good. We already know Johnny's medical history that way." Kel shared.

Roy's eating dropped off again. "Will having no spleen effect him much if he's actually injured?"

Joe replied eagerly. "Not if any hemorrhaging's controlled right away."

Kel agreed. "It'd be a different outcome if he had, say, a missing kidney going into all this. Then any thirst issues would be a huge factor on how he handles being trapped away from any drinkable water sources."

"He'd better have the gear with him." Roy muttered, pushing his eggs around his plate.

"What?" Morton asked, "I didn't quite hear that."

DeSoto looked up at him, distracted. "The Mayfair was empty when we found it on the beach. Even the supplies from all the locked compartments were gone. And no amount of seawater could have taken those. We had to unlock all of those doors just to check them.  
The ambulance in my opinion, was expertly stripped down manually before it was washed away."

Morton rubbed the five o'clock shadow on his chin. "Well if that's true, why hasn't either of them tried to contact us using the Mayfair's biophone?"

Roy set down his fork empathetically in mid bite, suddenly crestfallen all over again.  
"That's a good question." he admitted. "Cap's been telling me that Chet's been glued to ours every chance he gets, waiting for Johnny to call."

"That's right." Dr. Early said in discovery. "The rescue squads haven't been using them.  
Not that I recall."

Brackett nodded."That's because their patient call volumes have been off the charts.  
Too many to dilly dally and waste time talking about them over the phone waves. It's about time those standing orders of ours for all the advanced life support crews were tested. Too bad it took a tidal wave before the fire department started using them."

"They'll work out all right, Kel." said Morton. "A lot of conditions react the same in just about every case. Those pre-determined treatment steps will get the job done for all the common emergencies. And if something doesn't fit the protocols, our paramedics can still reach their doctor for some further help by calling in."

Not paying attention to the doctors' conversation any longer, Roy pushed his empty food plate away with a small shove. ::Why haven't you, Johnny?:: he thought to himself in a return of heightened stress.

Roy DeSoto felt his heart rate begin to rise in renewed worry.

Animation: Dripping, trickling fresh water.

Photo: Joe, Morton and Kel in a hallway discussing charts.

Photo: Roy in his helmet looking old and worn.

Photo: Battalion Nine, beside a fire engine at night.

Photo: Engines and a chief's car pouring out of Station 51.

Photo: USAR studying bridge caisson schematics.

Photo: CHiP officers and firefighters helping a downed woman.

Photo: A collapsed pier in a bay.

Photo: Johnny, seated and exhausted, inside of a small underground tunnel.

**************************************************  
From:patti k ()  
Sent:Wed 12/15/10 2:23 AM Subject: For Every Action...

Officer Grossman looked down at the garbage on the floor of the hallway at CHiP Central. "What a mess." he said, placing his hands on his hips.

"Since it stands out as a problem in your mind, how about donning a pair of medical gloves and picking it all up? Triage, is messy." said Sargeant Joe Gatraer, his immediate highway patrol office supervisor. "Follow up with a fast bleach mop. I think we can expect more victims eventually finding us from off the freeway system today, too."

Grossman immediately squatted down and put on some from the pouch on his uniform belt. He snagged a nearby waste basket and started in on cleaning up. "But why not any until now?" he wanted to know. "The last wave struck two days ago."

"People are weird, Grossie." said a feminine voice. It was Officer Bonnie Clark, another CHiPs colleague who drove a squad car instead of a motorcycle.  
She began helping out as well after pulling on gloves of her own. "Add a full blown disaster into the mix, and they all go crazy." she said dramatically with a smile through her shoulder length blond hair flopping down in front of her eyes.

"Yeah. Judgement goes right out the window. Grossie, you've seen people at accidents." reasoned Gatraer.

Baricza appeared from a doorway, tossing them a roll of red medical bags. He had overheard the whole conversation from the report desk. "They never act in a way you'd expect." he agreed.

"That's right. There's no explaining it." Sgt. Joe shrugged. "Thanks, guys, for doing this."

"You're the sarge." said Grossman meaningfully.

The irony was lost on Joe.

Grossie suddenly blanched as he said more. "There's not enough money in the world to convince me to take a sargeant spot in filling your shoes right now."

"Oh, really. Why so?" asked Joe.

The flaxen haired, slightly pudgy officer with the lisp just pointed over his shoulder subtlely, remaining speechless.

Gatraer whirled around to see Battalion Nine storming down the hallway towards them. A firm expression on his face glared from underneath his white fire department helmet.

Joe's eyes narrowed even as his underling officer's eyes widened. Gatraer kept his body language neutral as he wondered who had let him in. "Chief, what drags you away from the Big Event?" Sarge asked.

The silver haired firefighting supervisor head didn't mince words. "We're considering using this building as a secondary triage location and clinic. But only if it doesn't interfere with your day to day operations."

Joe smiled. "You're more than welcome. We even have garage space out back for a makeshift morgue if necessary that's out of the public eye. It's next to our mechanic's shop. We only keep vehicular evidence in there."

"Good man." said Battalion. "Now, how did DeSoto do when he was here?"

Gatraer looked puzzled, folding his arms over his elbows uncomfortably. "Fine.  
Is there a problem?" Joe asked.

"No. Just confirming a job well done for later commendation. We'll have a tent outside for our people to sleep in and we'll have a rescue squad stationed twenty four/seven out front. We had no idea the public would consider a highway patrol office as a point of destination for emergency medical help."

"Neither did we." said Sarge. "But we're sure glad your man showed up when he did."

The chief grinned. "This summer, he's one of Mayfair Company's men. But he can act on behalf of the fire department when the need arises."

"Coffee?" Bonnie offered the chief.

"No, ma'am. But thanks. I'd better be getting back to Incident Command." said the chief. "Let HQ know what supplies you have in here that get used up and we'll replace it a.s.a.p. through Logistics. Only thing I can't get right away is personnel help beyond the team I'll be assigning here." he shared.

"Will do." said Joe as the chief turned away to return back to his battalion car.  
Bill turned back on a thought. "Oh, and another thing. About Caisson One..."

Gatraer held up his hands in instant self defense. "Now, I'm sorry about that.  
What my officers do on their own time is completely out of my control. Ponch and Jon decided to risk their own skins off the paycheck." he insisted.

Bill chuckled."Nice speech. You must say it often. That sounded very politically correct. No, what I was about to say was 'Nice job.' Your officers gave us leads we hadn't had the capacity to even consider yet because of our workload. Keep up the good work. And thanks for allowing those two to attend our EMT program this past spring. They've been invaluable in the field already, on multiple occasions."  
he beamed.

"You're welcome." Gatraer parroted, still stunned by the unexpected compliment.  
He blushed a bright shade of red.

Bill held up a hand in farewell. "I'll let myself out. Looks like you're all very busy.  
We'll be in touch through the main emergency band. Good luck with today, people."

"Likewise." said Grossman, finally finding his voice at being privvy to Joe's foot in mouth mistake.

When the door closed behind him, all four of the CHiP officers just kept on staring at it. Bonnie Clark summed it up in a single sentence. "How come our own chiefs don't scare us half as bad as the fire department ones do?"

Grossman shrugged, picking up a bloodied bandage carefully and tossing it into his plastic bag. "Because they're cooler. They used to be firefighters."

Everyone else sighed in agreement and finally got down to business.

When Vince Howard's bandage fell off the wound on his arm, exposing a stench of infection, he decided to pay a visit to Rampart for some free medical care. He parked his car, and walked up to the staff intercom, and rang it.

##Rampart Emergency?## came the disembodied reply.

"L.A.P.D. Howard, Badge #27. I've been injured, and..."

*Snick* went the door.

Two nurses met him when the security buzzer mechanism released its lock on the door. One of them already had a wheel chair in hand and the other was carrying a full jump bag across one shoulder. "What happened?" a tall blond one asked, getting a grip onto both of his shoulders protectively to prevent any falls.

Vince exclaimed when he felt the vinyl of the chair's seat being pressed against the back of his knees. "Whoa! Easy there. Nothing happened. At least not today.  
I got a nick that's gone bad. Getting pussy, you know." he trivialized.

"Those are the worst kind." said the second nurse with dark hair. "Where is it?" she asked.

Vince humored her, and sat down. "Left upper arm. Listen, ladies." he insisted as they began to wheel him quickly inside. "I didn't mean to make a fuss. I tried to tell you a minute ago that all I needed was a new bandage, but you opened the door too fast."

The first nurse nailed him with a Look. "Puss is nothing to shake a stick at. It means that your immune system is overcompensating grossly. That could be why you're sweating so much." she said, swiping a few gentle gloved fingers across his damp forehead.

"I am?" Vince asked, surprised.

"You've got a pretty high fever." said a third, getting a high sign from the other two R.N.s that a gurney was needed immediately. "Know how I can tell?" she asked Howard, tipping her elegant African American face towards his thoughtfully.

"No. But I'm sure you're going to tell me." he grinned tightly, getting more and more irritated by the flurry of activity instigated on his behalf.

"Your ears are pale, even though you're not white." she chided, patting the mattress of the bed meaningfully. "Come on, these orderlies will help you up. This could be early septicemia. Your whole arm's swollen and you've got red streaks tracing up a long way from the cut."

"Funny. I don't feel that sick." Vince shivered as he let them lower his head down onto a pillow.

"You will be very sick if we don't treat you with I.V. antibiotics as fast as we can pump them into you." said the first nurse. "Doctor!" she shouted,  
hailing one from a little further down the hallway where they were hurrying towards the Emergency Department. He joined them quickly. "What do you got?"

"Probable early septic shock. I can't find a pulse in either of his wrists now.  
He was a walk in. History of a laceration from just two days ago. His pressure's dropping rapidly."

Vince spoke up, slurring suddenly. "Now that I think offf it. I am kind of dizzzzy.  
Nauseated, too." he said, keeping flat on his back as the motion began to torment his stomach.

"Roll over." ordered one of the nurses."It's better you throw up sideways than up. Or you'll start choking."

"Terrific..Would somebody please tell my supervisorrrr know what's ...what's going on?" he asked as he felt an oxygen mask being slipped over his face.

"I'll do that." said a new voice. Vince felt a cool hand gently touch his cheek.  
It was Sharon Walters. "Vince. This is all my fault. I must have hurried too much tending to your arm the first time." she told him unhappily.

"No it's not." Howard said blearily. "It's...I was probably crawling around raw sewage with the National Guard for hours while we got out old folks trapped in their flooded homes. We got absolutely soaked a few times. Head to toe."

"That'll do it." said the doctor, ripping away more of Vince's shoulder sleeve so he could eye the rest of the urticaria spreading up towards his shoulder. A deft hand quickly felt under his armpit.

"Ahhh." Vince winced.

"Sorry about that. I had to find out." apologized the doctor. He looked up at his nurses. "Swollen lymph nodes in the axillary groove. Lots of them." he shared for their hasty chartwork. Then he looked down again and began examining Vince's rolling eyes. "Officer, this is your lucky day. A few more hours with that not so little nick unattended, and that tiny lack of a clean bandage, might have gotten you killed."

Somehow, that dread pronouncement didn't seem to sink into Vince's growing mental haze. He just moaned when he thought he was talking to them. Fear began to settle deep into his chest. ::I could have died?:: Vince panicked mentally.

The young M.D. continued speaking. "Let's get him into Three to lance that wound open to see exactly what we've got. I want an immediate lab team called in for him. I want swabs and blood cultures to I.D. this bacteria as soon as humanly possible. Somebody, find his chart so we know what antibiotic we can safely put into his I.V."

Sharon Walters grabbed one of Howard's trembling hands but he couldn't feel it. "Vince, hang on. We'll turn this around. You'll see." she promised.

The police officer found that he could no longer respond and his eyes slid shut.

"He's heading for a tube." said the doctor. "Get on the phone and get RT here now." he ordered crisply. "Somebody grab the crash cart."

Vince felt the world going away by the time Respiratory Therapy arrived to help him breathe manually from a bag due to increasingly weakening lungs.

He blacked out.

Photo: CHiP Central HQ

Photo: Sargeant Joe Gatraer

Photo: CHiPs Officer Arthur Grossman

Photo: CHiPs Officer Bonnie Clark

Photo: Vince lying on a gurney.

Photo: Sharon Walters standing in a doorway.

***************************************************  
From:patti k () Sent:Sun 12/19/10 10:18 AM Subject: The Hole...

Johnny Gage watched the light fade out of National Guardsman Specialist Karen's eyes. ::I didn't count on this.:: he thought to himself. ::But I can't say it wasn't unexpected.:: He looked up into Rosalie Arnold's eyes. "I'm sorry. She's gone, Rosalie. There's nothing more we can do for her." he said softly.

"Why did she die?" Arnold asked, stunned, still feeling where the pulse had been in the broken legged soldier.

Gage turned off the I.V. flow on Karen and left the bag lying on her stomach.  
"It was a combination of things. We're all hungry, but for her it was worse. Swelling in her legs below the fracture points caused something called compartmental syndrome. That's where muscles get bloated far beyond the space they normally fill inside of their fascia sheaths. The circulation to her feet got cut off and tissue died. The potassium in her blood rose to a level that I couldn't offset anymore and that stopped her heart."

"Oh." Arnold remained quietly dry eyed. Exhaustion was now all consuming in all five of them. The expression of any strong emotion seemed to severely tax their already low energy reserves. Rosalie covered the woman's peaceful face with a piece of plastic before taking her blanket to add another layer over sleeping Joshua, the boy, who lay beside her. "How much glucagon and sucrose paste do we have left?" she asked dully.

Johnny glanced at all of their running I.V. bags appraisingly. "Maybe...  
enough to last out the day." he croaked wearily. "Then we start getting a little uncomfortable."

Rosalie calmly brushed off the dust from the front of her uniform. "Maybe it's time we start getting a bit more proactive about helping ourselves then."  
she whispered.

"I don't follow." said Johnny, packing up the EKG monitor they had used during Karen's final hours.

Rosalie shrugged. "Let's start exploring a little. While it's still daylight."

Gage shook his head instantly. "It's too dangerous. This pile's completely unstable."

She countered, lifting her chin up. "I can't just sit around any more. The waiting's getting far too unbearable." she said, casting a hand towards Karen significantly. She looked away from the body with an effort.

"No."

"Johnny, please. We can make it safer. We've got two pairs of eyes. Yours,  
and mine. We can watch each other's backs. And yes, we can go slug slow through all the tight spots. It can't be that much farther to go to hit the bay."  
Johnny started to purse his lips vehemently in disagreement when she hissed.  
"What other choice do we have?" she whispered sharply so the others wouldn't hear or be disturbed. "Soon we'll be too weak to do anything to get ourselves out of here." Rosalie smiled for the first time in a day. "You know how the saying goes. I'd rather d-"

"Don't say it. Don't even think it." he glared. "We are nowhere near a last ditch effort situation. We're just-"

"All alone." Rosalie pitched right back. "Still trapped apparently." she emphasized.

Johnny narrowed his eyes. "D*mn it. You're.. you're right. I'll give you that. We don't know if we're still stuck with no way out."

"Aha. See?" she pounced.

Johnny shushed her by placing hasty fingers over her trembling mouth. "All right.  
All right." he said angrily. "We'll try this. But I'll go in first. I've more experience testing out confined spaces."

"I'm smaller."

Gage held up a warning finger even as he began looping his own I.V. tubing around his shoulder like a lasso to protect it and to move it out of his way.  
"We're not going to go running pell mell into the darkness here. We're gonna plan this thing. At the very least, we're going to have to explain to Bernie, Gertie, and Joshua, the dangers involved."

"I'm sure they won't mind. We're supposed to be their rescuers, Johnny. So let's finish the job already." Rosalie suddenly closed her eyes in a wave of dizziness and she sank back down onto the piece of rubble she liked because it refused to get cold in the chill. "Oh.." she gasped.

"What?" Johnny prompted, grabbing her arm quickly.

"Guess I'm a little hungry here or something. I got dizzy for a moment. I'm all right."  
she reassured him.

"Not again. Here's another one." Johnny said, passing off a glucose tube he had waiting in a torn pocket. "It should fix you enough to travel for a few hours. How's your pressure?" he added.

"Fine." Rosalie said, getting back to her feet to show him. "I'll go get our packs. Then we can go wake the others so they can man our lines."

"Wait a minute. What lines?" Gage asked, confused.

"Those lines." Rosalie said, pointing up the shaft over their heads. "The ropes Karen left hanging off the ladder when she fell. We can cut them down. They look solid enough."

Johnny grinned. "So they are." he said peering up at them with a flashlight. "They're two hundred footers, at least." he guessed.

"Enough to go exploring this whole caisson base." Arnold nodded with satisfaction.

"If we can." said Johnny, locating their work gloves inside of his pack.

"No. When we do." Arnold corrected, changing the feel of their whole plan into a brightly fierce hope. She sucked down the sickly sweet sugar gel from the tube in her hand and tried not to gag as her overshrunken stomach tried to rebel.

"Better?" he asked, seeing the nauseated expression that had spread briefly over her face leaving.

"Yeah." she sighed, when the wave had passed. Already, she could feel energy returning to her sore body. "Let's go."

They packed lightly, taking nothing with them except extra flashlights, clothes,  
two new I.V. solution bags to use for later, and the ropes Johnny had retrieved after a bit of difficult climbing.

"Good luck." said Gertie, holding on to both her husband Bernie, and their nephew tightly, at the entrance to the hole. "We'll stay here until we're found." she promised.

Gage nodded his head. Kneeling down by it , he offered the ends of their ropes to Bernie to tie off onto something firm so they'd be able to retrace their path safely back to the main chamber if they got lost. "These will also lead rescuers to you once we find a way out." he said.

"Take my compact mirror." said Gertie, reaching into a pocket for the water soaked powder cosmetic she had there. "You may be able to use it as a signal."

Johnny gripped her hand. "Thanks. Remember to do what I taught you once all your I.V.s run out. Replace the bags before they drain dry. Manage the drip according to how thirsty you get or not over time. Try to conserve fluid as much as possible."

"I'll remember." said Gertie, worried for them, not the instructions.

"Don't do anything stupid, young man." said Bernie. "I know how brash firefighters get, by reputation."

Johnny just grinned. "Yeah, well, the stakes aren't high enough yet." he joked.  
Then he looked down. "Joshua, look after your aunt and uncle. I'm going to count on you to keep them safe and calm for as long as this takes."

"I will, Mr. Gage." the boy replied.

Johnny rumpled his hair affectionately.

"Okay. Rosalie, let's get this done before I lose my nerve." he said, turning on the flashlight in his gloves and disappearing into the blackness. "Stuff your I.V. bag into your shirt. It won't get bumped that way."

Already breathing hard, Arnold followed him into the hole. "Right back at you."  
she puffed, some of her bravado faltering. "Boogey man, watch out! Here we come." she teased for the boy's benefit.

Bernie and Gertie began to feed in rope as it was pulled inside, inch by slow inch. Soon, even the light from Rosalie and Johnny's flashlights disappeared,  
leaving behind only the rasp of rope on rock as it was dragged past them.

Chet sat cross legged on his station bunk, hailing on the biophone. "Engine 51 to Mayfair Three, do you read us?" he repeated once again. He was doing so every fifteen minutes. No reply came, just static on the Mayfair Channel.  
He tossed down the receiver to bounce on the messy mattress. "Cap, this doesn't make any sense at all. Now Johnny's not dull. And Rosalie's a real sharp cookie. Why aren't they calling using their biophone?"

Hank just got irritated. "Besides the hideous answer, there are two other reasons I can think of, Kelly. Low battery or damage to its transmitters, or a physical barrier that's preventing reception. Bridge construction is pretty solid even when its intact."

Stoker offered another possibility. "He might have his hands full doing other things, Chet. Like caring for victims. I know that would be the first thing he'd try for regardless of what was going on with himself personally."

Marco thought on a tangent. "Where's Roy? All of this has got to be going down hard with him."

Cap replied, stroking a softly whining Henry on the bed beside him. "Shhh, pal.  
It's okay. We're just talking." he looked up with an answer. "Battalion said he's at CHiPs Headquarters in a Triage tent, getting some shut eye."

"What's he doing there?" asked Marco.

"They needed a Head of Triage. Seems that folks are showing up at the highway patrol office in droves, looking for medical help." Cap replied.

"That place isn't very big." Chet said.

"I know. Hence the tent." Hank nodded. "A rescue squad's been posted there for the duration."

"Who?" Stoker asked, curious.

"Us. Brice and Bellingham." Hank answered.

"They were here?" Chet asked, surprised.

"Yeah, for five hours. You were out like a light, Chet." said Marco told him.  
"They came, slept, and went."

"Sorry for not noticing." Kelly said defensively.

"Hey, none of that. We're all getting irritated here, not just me." Cap warned.  
"And that's something that's going to stop."

Woof! said Henry.

"Just keep trying there, Kelly. We've got three hours to kill before we can go back on duty." Hank ordered.

"Yes, sir." replied Kelly.

Dixie looked at Liz Stanton, Kate Brown, Stanley Dubois and all the other Mayfair EMTs gathered in front of her at Incident Command at the edge of the field. "Our duties have changed, at least, for a while. We've caught up with search and rescue teams with regards to transporting out any live victims they find. Now we're being assigned doing the opposite, for those times in between calls."

"Body recovery?" asked the curly haired Stanley Dubois.

"Yes. Not of those here in the morgue. Those are safely out of public eyes.  
The ones we're being ordered to handle are the ones in active rescue sites.  
It seems natural decay is interfering with search dogs' accuracy in spotting any trapped victims. So we're going to fix that problem." McCall shared.  
"We'll be taking all fatalities to Dodger Stadium for processing by the forensics and medical examiner offices teams."

"Ughh." muttered Kate Brown, Liz Stanton's EMT partner.

Liz just patted her shoulder in encouragement. "Won't be as bad as that. USAR's already put them into body bags."

Dixie didn't hear the exchange from where she was in front of her employees.  
"Mayfairs Eight through Twelve, report to CHiP Central in East Torrance. There's a new Triage site being established there. Mostly minor trauma victims and some major medicals on civilian evacuees leaving the freeway system for help.  
Your job is to help treat and take those victims to available hospitals and medical centers. A fire department Battalion Chief will give you your destinations via radio.  
Listen for him using your callsigns once you report in. There will be a pair of paramedics there to prioritize."

Stan raised his hand.

Dixie nodded.

Dubois asked his question. "What about an M.D.? Will there be one on site?"

"There can be if the need arises. He or she can fly in by helicopter. Until then, utilize the CHiP force in the building to assist you. Ponch and Jon are based there and so that's another pair of EMT's on hand." Dixie smiled. "Okay, people. Let's move out. Read the assignment board here behind me for where your ambulance is to report. Don't worry about documentation. Concentrate on keeping yourselves physically protected from contamination and infection exposure by using strict body substance isolation protocols and procedures. Is that understood?" Dixie asked loudly.

Murmurs of assent returned and slowly, the EMT teams found their relevant information on Dixie's assignment board. They departed one by one in their ambulances for the streets.

Kate Brown and Liz Stanton were the last ones to read the board. Dixie joined them.  
"Find it okay?" she asked.

"Yeah." said Liz. "How are you doing, Dixie?"

McCall's in charge demeanor suddenly fell away. "As well as to be expected. Not knowing's been a heavy load."

"What's she talking about, Liz?" Kate asked. "I'm missing something here."

Liz just sighed. "Remember that paramedic named Johnny Gage who faked a head knock on a mock for you last week?"

"Oh yes, Mr. Funny. I remember him. Why?" Miss Brown asked, smiling conversationally.

Dixie eyed up Kate, reluctant to share the news. "He's been reported as missing at the bridge site. His ambulance was found washed up on the beach next to Mel Turner's body. Both he and an EMT, Rosalie Arnold, are presumed trapped under one of the collapsed caissons out in the bay."

"I'm so sorry." burbled Kate. "Anything we can do to help find them?"

"Pray." replied Dixie dully. "Three days is an awfully long time to be caught alone under all of that."  
-

Photo: Johnny Gage climbing on dirt in a hole.

Photo: EMT Rosalie Arnold looking at Johnny Gage.

Photo: Gertie, the aunt, looking worn and frazzled.

Photo: A dark burning chamber underground.

Photo: Dixie organizing communications in a triage area.

Photo: EMT Stan Dubois, looking thoughtful.

Photo: National Guardsman rescuing a woman from a flood.

Photo: Cap in the bunk room, discussing things.

Photo: A lone police man searching under crushed cars.

From:patti k () Sent:Tue 12/21/10 6:42 AM Subject: Progress..

The first thing he heard were voices near his head and the electronic noise and beeps of life support machines surrounding him. Vince wanted to open his eyes, but couldn't yet. He lay, finally lung comfortable, his breathing supported by a large specialized mask strapped to his face, held with clips. Howard found he hadn't the strength to move a single fevered muscle, even though he was wide awake inside.

"Sharon, how's Mr. Howard doing?" asked a male voice with authority.

"He's stable, doctor. There's been no further degradation of his respiratory efforts.  
His pressure's back on track. It's sitting at 88/46. Capillary refill in all extremities is on the rise."

"Hmm...he's still a bit tachycardic." said the M.D., studying the rapidly tracing EKG monitor that Vince could hear going off to his right, next to his ear.

"His heart's beating faster than it used to be? It was fairly calm just a few seconds ago." said Sharon, feeling the pulse beat in the police officer's wrist.

"He might be starting to come to." theorized the doctor. "The conditions are right.  
His blood chemistry's normal now. Have one of your nurses start checking for higher signs of consciousness every fifteen minutes. Notify me once he's fully awake and responding so I can do a full neural assessment to see if he's taking any damage from the bacteria. Specifically, I want to rule out meningitis effects."

"Yes, doctor." she said as he left the room with Vince's patient chart and lab results.

Almost immediately, Howard heard the sounds of privacy curtains being pulled open and a soothing woman's perfume began to fill his nostrils. Vince almost started to cry with the familiarity of it.

"Hey, Vince." said Dixie McCall. Howard felt his good friend take his hand. "I just heard.  
I was worried a minute ago, but it looks like you're doing all right here." her voice smiled vocally as she quickly studied the readouts on all of Vince's machines. "They don't even have you in critical care yet." The hand moved to his forehead, feeling his internal temperature. "Sharon?" Dixie prompted. "What was found?"

"Septicema. A non-resistant staph infection. Gram negative stain. He was about ten minutes away from full neuro muscular paralysis from the toxins being created in his bloodstream when we got to him after he drove himself to the hospital. We cleared most of that up with emergency dialysis. He's currently on top dosages of the proper antibiotic in both of those large bore I.V.s." she reported. "And.." she hesitated. "I think it might be my fault that he got sick." she whispered fearfully, trembling.

McCall looked up and met her eyes firmly. "Nonsense. You know full nursing care skills and practice them just as well as I do. And even if you were the first one to see and treat this wound.." she said, pointing to Vince's arm cut that had been left open to air and drain onto a blue chux absorbing pad. Dixie could see that it had been thoroughly cleaned and irrigated with betadine. "..there are all kinds of horrors happening out there in the disaster zone, including the microbial kind. Especially since all of the underground sewer systems were flooded out. This is a chance infection, Sharon. It's not due to any kind of malpractice on your part. Septic sludge is totally contagious if not kept off of the skin."

"He did say that he was working on evacuations in the flooded areas." Walters peeped.

"There you go. He was exposed to all of that with freshly broken skin. It was only a matter of time before he fell ill from something no matter how good you were treating him beforehand. Sh*t's filthy." she grinned cattily with exasperation.

Walters let out the tense sigh she had been holding in with utter relief, her doe eyes filling with tears. "I was.. so worried about him."

"You're not the only one. Now pull yourself together. Vince's wanting good company,  
not friends sobbing over him for no good reason." Dixie chided Sharon gently.

Then McCall pulled up a stool and sat down next to Howard's head, still holding firmly to his hand in comfort. "Vince, I can tell by your heart rate that you're hearing us." she said, speaking out loud to him. "Don't worry about not being able to move. You've been sedated as a precaution to prevent any febrile seizures from making your condition worse while we kick this bug of yours. That mask you're feeling is offering you pressurized oxygen so you don't have to work so hard at breathing. It's called a P.E.E.P." she said, tapping it so he knew what she was talking about. "As for the time of day, it's about seven hours since you crawled in here to see us." she teased. "You are most definitely not dying. If anything, you are getting better very rapidly, so relax that overactive brain of yours. I'll tell you all the news you're wondering about. You're family's been notified. They're flying in from wherever they are and should be here by evening. It's four forty five p.m. Sunday. So not too long now. Work is cool about this vacation break of yours that you're taking." she joked. "And, throughout your beat in Torrance, there's only a few active search and rescue operations still going on. One of which is the one pinpointing where Johnny Gage may be trapped. They have a few fresh leads on that. Now, is there anything I've left out?" she asked Howard's lax face. The EKG monitor remained steady in its new slow, restful rate. "Didn't think so." Dixie grinned gently, patting him on his blanketed shoulder. "I suggest you take a nap. Either Sharon or somebody else will wake you when your visitors arrive. I'll check on you again later as soon as I possibly can with another followup on the outside world. Get well fast." she ordered, then she kissed him lightly on his sweaty forehead. "See you, Germ Boy."

"Dixie!" Sharon admonished, half laughing.

"What? That's what he is." McCall shrugged. "Gotta have a sense of humor around this place. Right, Vince?"

The heart rhythm on the EKG monitor twitched.

"See?" said Dixie. She looked at her watch. "Oh, Sharon. I've got to be getting back.  
My official break's over." She gave Walters a fast wave as she left the curtained room for the exit where a Mayfair was waiting for her to rejoin it.

A nurse from the ICU desk poked her head in a minute later, her eyebrows raised.  
"Don't tell me. Dixie was here. I can tell." she said, admiring Vince's improved vital signs.

Sharon nodded.

"I wish I had that kind of magic touch." said the nurse.

"So do I." Walters smiled. "Let me know when he fully awakens, all right? I'll be downstairs, back in the full chaos again."

"I don't envy you." said the ICU charge nurse.

"It's not so bad any more. Not since Dixie taught me a few things." she said in sudden self discovery. She smiled at the memory fondly.

"Whoa. You're no longer nervous about being head nurse of the entire E.R.? Newflash! Tell all once all this is all over?" she asked, playing with Sharon's good mood.

"You bet, Carol." Sharon promised. She tucked Vince's blanket up a little higher tenderly and then quietly pulled Howard's privacy curtain shut behind her as she left for the elevator. "Behave yourself." she teased the officer in a whisper.

Vince mental grin faded into the gray of wholesome sleep, as he was infinitely reassured by the jab.

Pon and Jon Baker stood panting on the rocks, sipping water bottles while they watched USAR map out where fallen road sections had settled in and around Caisson One.

"Did you hear?" Frank asked his equally overheated partner.

"What?" asked Jon.

"Vince is down. Some kind of blood bug."

"Is he all right?" Baker asked, shocked.

"Yeah, he'll be fine. I just talked to Dixie." said Frank. "Some instinct made him visit the hospital just before he collapsed." he panted, still tired from digging.

"That's some instinct." gaped Jon. "I wonder what it was that tipped him off?"

"When he gets better, maybe we can ask him." Ponch shrugged as he sat down onto an empty trauma box to catch his wind again. Then he eyed up the scene.  
"This grid by grid probing thing... it's taking too long." he groused.

Baker agreed, nodding.

"Why aren't they using the dogs anymore?" Ponch asked, irritated.

"USAR tells me it's because there are now too many body parts lying around, buried and in the water. The dogs are getting confused by all the abundance of human scent from the rescuers, too. It's throwing them off." Jon explained.  
"But I totally agree with you. There's got to be a better way."

Ponch leaned over, towelling off his neck with a rag while leaning elbows over his dirty something clicked in his mind like a thunderbolt.  
"No, Jon. Listen! What we need...is a better dog." he said excitedly.

"What?"

"Station 51, man!" he said, bouncing back up to his feet. "They've got a Basset Hound there, right? And what better search dog can there be than one who knows the victim?"

Jon's face lit up in comprehension. "Ponch, you get the craziest ideas sometimes,  
but this one, I really like." he crowed.

"Come on, let's go!" Ponch told him, running for the road.

The bell at Station 51 rang at the kitchen side door. Ann, the Red Cross worker answered it. "Yes?" she asked. "Are you two officers looking for a meal? You've come to the right place." she said happily, swinging the door wide open in invitation.

"No, ma'am. Not right now. This is official business." said Baker.

"We need to speak to this station's captain. It's urgent!" said Ponch.

"Oh, my.. If it's an emergency.." minced Char, her companion cook.

"Ladies, everything going on the last three days have been emergencies."  
Ponch insisted.

"They're all sleeping still. Just nodded off the poor dears." said Ann.

"They'll be happy we woke them." Ponch said. "Excuse me." he said as he and Jon ran for the apparatus bay. They drew out their flashlights and headed for the silent bunkroom.

"Captain? Captain Stanley? We need to talk to you immediately!" shouted Ponch as they entered.

Hank shot up in his bed with the skill of years of waking reaction. "I'm up!  
We're all up! What's the story? What's happened?"

Ponch grinned, aiming his torch at the sleepy expression on Cap's face.  
"You mean what's going to happen."

Hank shoved it out of his eyes and flicked on the light to get over the pain of readjustment to daylight. "Tell all." he prompted.

Jon started in eagerly. "Got one of Johnny's dirty shirts handy? Your dog's going on active duty as of right now."

Cap gaped and smacked himself on the forehead. "Why didn't we think of that?" he asked incredulously.

"Because we were too tired, Cap." said Chet, dressing eagerly.

"Stoker." snapped Cap. "We're going back there pronto. Go warm up the Ward."

"Yes, sir."

"Marco.." Cap directed. "Go grab Henry and some of Johnny's old laundry. The smellier the better."

"Right, Cap." Lopez nodded, running from the room.

Engine 51 screamed down deserted 223rd Avenue with full lights and sirens, nimbly escorted by Ponch and Jon on their lights activated motorcycles, leading the way.

Chet hugged Henry tightly in his lap to control him. The dog was beside himself with eagerness. He had figured it out. But Kelly was worried about other things.  
"Just how much trouble are we going to be in for coming back on duty two hours early?" he asked Marco, seated next to him.

"None." replied Lopez, hugging a bag full of Gage's laundry. "We're just following Captain's orders."

Stanley had overheard the conversation and he turned back ferally. "USAR's gonna have major egg on their faces when we find him first and they don't despite all their fancy gear. Henry's just a pet, remember?" he grinned happily. "Still kicking myself that I didn't listen to the Old Boy." he said patting Henry's sides affectionately with his work gloves. "He was trying to tell us. Didn't you see how he camped out in the squad's footprint this morning and refused to move?"

"Woof!" said Henry.

"He knew about the possibility way beforehand?" gaped Marco.

"Yep." said Cap.

"That's one smart dog. But it took a pair of highway patrolmen to figure it out for us." Chet admired.

"Henry knows what his job's gonna be that's for sure." said Stoker, eyeing them all up in his rear view mirror.

"It's not a job to him, Mike." said Kelly. "It's more like fixing a major cosmic wrong in his whole universe."

"Just so long as it works." muttered Hank, tightening his helmet strap as they bounced along the road.

"Amen." replied the gang.

And Henry. He added an empathetic.. "Woof!"

Photo: Vince on a ventilator.

Photo: Sharon Walters as head nurse, close.

Photo: Dixie leaning over a bed.

Photo: A doctor looking at an EKG strip.

Photo: CHiPs Ponch and Jon on motors.

Photo: Station 51 with the engine and squad.

Photo: Henry peering from the leather couch.

Photo: Chet and Cap inside of the Ward.

Photo: Engine 51 roaring right at you.

************************************************** From:patti k ()  
Sent:Wed 12/22/10 1:41 PM Subject: Falling Into Place..  
A blast from Engine 51's air horn as she travelled down the freeway overpass startled a sleeping Roy bolt upright. Bob Bellingham greeted him swiftly. "Easy, Big Guy. That's us. On the way to providing a solution to a really big problem that's near and dear to our hearts." he said happily.

Roy sat up inside of the triage tent at CHiP Headquarters where they were stationed and was instantly wide awake. "Johnny." he guessed correctly.

Bellingham nodded.

When DeSoto went to push up off of his cot to stand, he discovered a BP cuff neatly wrapped around his arm. "What's this?" he asked, pulling it off and brandishing it.

Brice spoke up from a stool at the foot of Roy's bed. "We just performed a condition check on you. You were dead to the world for six hours..." Craig began.

"...and that's a good thing." Bob finished, completing his thought empathetically, exchanging a self conscious glance with Brice, biting his lip.

"Oh." Roy muttered. "Don't worry. I'm not gonna bite. That's a Cap kind of thing. So what's the miracle plan our engine's rushing in?"

Bellingham grinned, reassured."Not a plan as I said. A solution." he shared.

"Yes." said Craig. "A four legged one."

"A search dog?" Roy guessed, still pulling on his shoes and tying them.

"Our dog." Bob said proudly. "Henry's gonna be turned loose to run all over the pile to see if he can get a bead on Gage's whereabouts."

Roy's face broke out into the genuine joyful expression that Craig and Bob had been waiting for all day. "Did Chet think that up?"

"No. It was Ponch." chuckled Bob. "He's out there right now overseeing the big launch. It was also his department that encouraged I.C. to refocus attention back onto Caisson One."

Roy was grateful, but also instantly frustrated. He punched a fist into the pillow that he had drawn up into his lap for comfort. "I want to be out there, too."

Bob was adamantly agreeable. "Oh, don't worry, we will be." he promised. "Why else do you think we took the CHiPs triage assignment? Once they find him, guess who they're gonna call first?"

DeSoto began grinning again, even wider. "Paramedics."

Brice nodded and for him, almost ferally."And I've already calculated that we are the nearest available rescue squad to respond to the bridge site. We'll be the ones toned out."

"And you're coming with us." said Bob. "So keep your running shoes on."

Hank opened the side door of the engine as fast as he could. Chet had already scattered Gage's clothes all over the floor of the engine so Henry could firmly imprint on them. "Come on, Henry." said Cap. "Let's get your everloving rear outta th-"

"Whoa! Look at him go!" Chet yelled as the frantic Basset Hound plopped to the ground on his own and immediately began questing about among the rocks at a lope.

"I sure hope he doesn't get hurt." Marco said as small avalanches began wherever Henry had to really work at getting up a crumbling slope.

"Nah, dogs are great that way." Hank said. "They've got good instincts."

"And let's hope an even better sniffer, guys." Chet added. "Fingers crossed!" he shouted, showing four sets of his own.

Cap grounded a shoe on top of a piece of rumble to watch their mascot comb the pile with a practiced eye.

Captain Robert Cooper slowly paced over to Hank's side. "What's that?" he asked, pointing to the loud, search snuffling Henry.

"He's another angle we're trying." Cap said firmly, not looking away.

Cooper's puzzled look went away instantly. "Good luck." he mumbled as he set back the way he had come, returning to his men, who were carefully replotting the pile over a structural engineering map.

Kelly started cheering Henry on when the blood hound started to get overanxious as he cast about. "Come on, Henry. Find him. Go find Johnny. He needs you, boy."

Henry started whining even louder in frustration when suddenly it was as if a cable whipped his head around practically to his tail. His whole demeanor changed into intense concentration as he zeroed in on a telltale odor. He lifted a paw and started baying to the sky as he rushed off towards the west most end of the crumbled caisson, suddenly straight as an arrow.

"Over here! Over here, guys! On the double!" Chet hollered at the USAR team. "Our dog's found a positive scent trail!"

-  
Photo: Rescuers by the waterline on a collapsed bridge.

Photo: Roy looking helpless at a triage station.

Photo: Bob Bellingham, thoughtful.

Photo: Brice, smiling.

Photo: Engineers looking at a bridge map.

Photo: USAR looking up by a trapped body.

Photo: Henry on point on a rock.

Photo: Chet talking to a rescuer urgently.

Photo: A policeman standing on a bent bridge strut,  
searching for victims.

From:patti k () Sent:Thu 12/23/10 4:13 PM Subject: Heart To Heart...

Johnny and Rosalie did not rush things as they crawled.

"Are you marking our way?" Arnold asked.

"Yes, but I wouldn't count on any chalk mark lasting. The dust is still-" Gage froze when an unseen surface underneath him gave way and tilted slightly under a gloved hand. Slowly feeling around the edges, he found that it was just a boulder on top of a very hard, flat surface that was a roadway. "...settling." he finished.  
"We're much better off trailing our rope. That way we don't need to see to get back if we have to."

"Where are we?" she asked. "Feels like we've been crawling for hours. And the air's not getting any fresher." she coughed as she pointed her flashlight around them to find all the obstacles in their way. She painfully dragged herself over a steel beam in front of them.

"It's been three hours twenty minutes." he said, looking at his watch in his flashlight's beam. "I'm guessing we're about ninety feet from where we started inside of the core space, but all of the zigzagging we're doing in between all of these crevasses is what's causing the distance. We've got about four hundred feet of total play with these." he said, picking up their rope. "And I'm still hauling a coiled full one on my shoulder."

"We've gone only two hundred feet or less?" she sighed in dismay in the stuffiness.

"We've been backtracking a lot because of all the dead ends." Gage panted, sweat streaming down his face. Johnny stopped crawling and pulled a rock that was damp from out of a hole. "Smell that?" he smiled when a soft caress of an air current brushed past his cheek.

"Yeah, fresh brine." she said.

"Let's hope that this breeze is coming from a crack somewhere that's wide enough to let us through."

A deep rumbling began groaning once more above them, only this time, it was louder and more frightening.

"In here!" Johnny said, quickly finding a niche underneath the slanting edge of a pavement slab. They quickly scrambled under its solid,  
protective shelf and drew their feet into safety. Rosalie was pressed tightly against a back wall. "Not another one." she coughed.

"Breathe through your shirt!" Gage shouted over the noise. "It'll keep the dust out of your lungs." he warned.

Several huge chunks of concrete and steel girders slammed into the slope in front of them, raising clouds of choking grit in a thunder of noise. Then the debris fall began to die away almost as quickly as it had come. The cave-in lessened to a small trickle of dust and water and suspended flecks. "What's causing all of that?"  
Rosalie gasped, very scared, when it was over.

"Metal fatigue." Johnny replied. "Steel can go on tearing once its been torn if the forces acting on it are great enough. Just like a partially broken tree branch."

Finally, the last of the shuddering underneath them stopped. A few seconds later, the sharp breeze they had been following returned and cleared the steamy air around their heads.

Rosalie and Johnny wiped the dust off of their goggles so they could see again. Gage aimed a flashlight beam back out into the passageway.

There were many new fallen steel cables stretched or tangled around a jumble of green steel girders that had been warped by the tidal waves.

Johnny looked back and grinned. "Feeling nimble enough for a jungle gym? Because that's what we've got." he joked.

"Oh, no.." panted Rosalie. "I don't think I can do that for very long. I'm..  
I'm getting really shaky." she said in a trembling voice.

Gage did a double take from where he was pushing a piece of rubble away from them with a shoe. He scrambled back over to her. "Is it your blood sugar? You're not a diabetic?" he prompted. Rosalie just eyed him up, getting slightly anxious."No... just... a little out of...breath." And then the coughing began again before she could try to smile.

Johnny flicked on both flashlight beams regardless of energy expediture.  
"You weren't ever before. Any ideas about what brought this on?" he asked, gripping her carotid pulse point with a few fingers. "It's fast."

Rosalie just looked at him, struggling more and more.

Gage tried again. "Easy, Rosalie. What's different besides what you already had going on? Is it a dust allergy?" he said shifting himself to lay next to her in the small space.

"I just.. can't get...any air." she gasped.

It was then he saw it as he was leaning over Rosalie to loosen clothing from around her neck. "Sh*t." he said.

"What?"

"Just keep your head back for a second. I need to check this out."

"Johnny, wh-"

"It's JVD." he gasped, quickly seeing raised jugular veins in the feeble lighting of the torches. His alarm grew rapidly.

"Ohh...please no." she groaned.

"Quiet for a second. Let me listen to ya." he ordered, ripping her uniform open down to the T-shirt. He placed an ear onto her chest just below and to the left of her breast bone. "It's muffled." he said. "It's your heart.  
Not your lungs."

"Johnny, I don't-" she started, gripping his hair in her hands.

Gage lifted his head, frightened.  
"You're tamponading, Rosalie. That hard knock you took to your chest from that brick must have ruptured a slow leak into your pericardium. We have to go back for all the medical gear so I can treat you!" he said, beginning to panic as he considered the actual distance they had travelled.

"W-Won't it go away if I just rest...here a bit?" she panted.

Gage shook his head. "And I'm afraid I've made it worse by letting you exert yourself like I did. I knew I should have checked you out a little closer yesterday morning." he self chided, holding her face softly in his hands.

"M-My fault. I...brushed you off." she insisted.

"No, it's mine. I'm the senior provider. I should have known better." he told her, breathing fast. "Now,.. there's no time to waste. I'm going back for the trauma box. Stay upright or you'll start to suffocate." he instructed.  
"...okay.." she gasped, her eyes rolling, as she snatched at her own clothing,  
trying to find breathing room.

Johnny could see she was already getting a little cyanotic around her lips and mouth."I'm grabbing the oxygen, too. I'll be right back." he promised.

Rosalie's fumbling fingers fell onto a squarish lump in her jacket pocket and a look of horror washed over her face, casting it a ghastly white.

"Rosalie?" Johnny asked, taking over her airway control firmly with both hands. "Slow and steady."

She swept his hands away, copious tears beginning. "oh..no.." she sobbed. "I forgot we had it? I'm so...sorry."

"Had what?" Johnny asked quickly.

"This..." she sighed."In my pocket. It's an instruction manual.." Arnold panted.  
"...to the new biophone."

Johnny's mouth worked in shock. "Wait a minute, are you saying we have a-  
I didn't see one!" he insisted, scared and stunned.

"I should have remembered it.." she coughed. "I think we grabbed it out with us,  
Johnny. Thinking it was a...splints box." she gasped. "It's a new...model or something.  
I...didn't have time to read the book before...all of this happened. I'm sorry I- It wasn't red."  
"You had a lot on your mind. A tidal wave doesn't leave any room for thinking."  
Johnny reached into her pocket for the booklet and snatched it open. "So it's black. No wonder it didn't register with me, what it was."

Rosalie tried to sit up, choking weakly.

Johnny held her still against the wall. "Don't move. I'll prop you up a little more. Then I'm going." he told her.

"No..no, J- I'm so scared." Arnold panicked, reaching out to him.

"Shhh.." said Gage softly. "Calm down. The lower your blood pressure is, the slower the increase in swelling that's going on. There's most likely blood pooling around your heart. But you're doing fine. Your heart's still slippery as an eel inside of its sac and that's good." He gently grasped her face in his hands and he held the two of them together, forehead to forehead. "There's still time." he told her. "You've had this up to three days already, so how bad can it be? Huh?" he encouraged, his eyes suddenly brimming over with cascading tears as a soft desperation began to color his voice.

Rosalie tried to smile, keeping her eyes closed. "You...you can fix this?" she panted.

"Pericardiocentesis. Yes, I can fix it. It takes about ten minutes." he said, taking both her shoulders and leaning her back into a better supporting niche in the wall.

"Go.." she finally sighed, trying not to pant. "Then hurry back." she whispered, feeling a heavy numbing weakness filling her as hypoxia began to take a firmer hold. She pressed her flashlight into his hand.

Johnny Gage paused cheek to cheek with her, holding her tenderly. "I love you."  
he sobbed, kissing her cold, perspiration drenched forehead.

Rosalie felt him strip off his jacket to spread over her, and then he was gone,  
taking the light with him.

Photo: Rosalie Arnold, lying injured in a closeup.  
Photo: Johnny Gage, crawling up an embankment inside of a hole.

Photo: A black colored biophone, opened.

Photo: A jumble of collapsed river bridge and vehicles and a hole into the depths.

***************************************************************  
From:patti k () Sent:Thu 12/30/10 6:27 PM Subject: Fine Tuning..

Henry was barking up a storm. His face was planted up to the shoulders into a crack at the bottom of a "V" in a collapsed slab of freeway. It took both Marco and Chet to collar haul him out of it to make way for the USAR team and their heat imager. Even Robert Cooper couldn't keep the sound of excitement out of his own voice that was so prevalent inside of the dog's. "See anything?" he asked the firefighter standing in the long depression.

The dusty jacketed lieutenant's eyes lit up along with the infrared scan. "I have positive intact figure silhouetting and it's showing as having survivable body temperatures."

"How many?"

"One."

"All right people." ordered Cooper. "Test this whole area for large equipment instability.  
I want to know if this fractured roadway can handle up to a lifting crane's weight. Mapping?"

"Yes, sir." replied another fireman.

"Work with the scannerman. See if you triangulate the distance depth our victim's buried. I want it estimated to the nearest millimeter"! he barked swiftly.

Hank Stanley immediately got on his handy talkie. "Engine 51 to CA-2. We've at least one live victim under significant entrapment. Please respond a heavy equipment crew with jack hammers."

Chet was beside himself. "Think it's him?" he asked Cap, trying to hold back a lathered Henry who was getting overprotective of the rescue area he had found.

Hank almost didn't meet his eyes. "Either that or somebody he was with recently."

Robert wasn't through yet. "Who's got the gas sniffer?" he followed up with his team.

"I do." said a big fireman.

"Read for carbon dioxide higher than the ambient air." Robert ordered.

The fireman readjusted the handheld machine and stuck a long rodded probe deep into the crack. "33.4, sir. Whoever's down there is still breathing." he announced.

Nearby, Cap closed his eyes in instant relief. "Another survivor.." he sighed.

"Yeah, but who? Is it Rosalie or Johnny?" Chet asked.

Hank swallowed dryly. "We won't know that until we dig them out of there, now will we?  
Gang,.." he told his crew. "..make yourselves useful, this waiting game is over for us. Nobody can say we don't know how to dig." he encouraged them. "Time is critical. Now more than ever. Grab tools. Whatever you need from whereever you need. Don't hold back. And..  
hurry."

Marco, Stoker and Kelly nodded and took off running for USAR's equipment trailer with a barely controlled urgency.

Cap paced over to Robert's side and stood there, helping to oversee the newly escalating operation. "So how long are we talking about until we reach that air pocket?" he asked.

Robert looked at him, pursing his lips. "I can't guess that. But I can tell you a rate of progress.  
It's an inch an hour once we melt through the surface asphalt to get to the reinforced concrete bed underneath."

Hank shifted with impatience, displeased.

Robert eyed him up firmly. "But we won't need a big hole right away to start maintaining good life support. Access to an arm and a face is all we need, Hank."

Cap guessed. "I.V.s and oxygen delivery?"

"Yes. And for manual respiratory support if it's needed."

"I'll call in a squad early. You never know. We might get lucky and break through a little faster." Cap decided. "Engine 51, L.A.. Respond paramedics to our location on emergency standby. We have signs of an entrapped live victim at Caisson One."

##10-4, Engine 51. L.A. out. 13:03.##

-  
Brice, Bellingham and DeSoto were sitting in the CHiPs briefing room after having cared for their last group of walk-in tsunami evacuees. They were in the midst of cleaning up. Suddenly it was a race for the fire department HT set up on top of the podium when the tones went off.  
Brice and Bellingham were too slow.

Roy DeSoto held it up into both of his trembling hands as they all waited with bated hopeful breath, that this was the call they had been waiting for. It was.

##L.A., Squad 51. Respond to USAR Base of Operations at Caisson One, at the Vincent Thomas Toll Bridge collapse site. You will be on medical standby for a newly activated search and rescue operation. Engine 51 reports a viable victim trapped underground.##

Roy forced calm into his reply, knowing the whole fire department world at the moment would be able to hear his voice. "Squad 51, L.A. They copy your assignment and will be reporting to Caisson One. Note that Mayfair One will also be responding as a backup resource."

"L.A., Squad 51. Acknowledging Squad 51 with Mayfair One. Time out: 13:04.##

"Let's go!" Roy shouted as Bob and Craig both abandoned their cleaning chores. They took off for the hallway at a fast clip.

"Good luck." said CHiPs Officer, Sargeant Joe Gatraer, a little belatedly as they disappeared around the corner. He began smiling when he realized the summons meant that there was a very high probability of a survivor that they could save.

Just then, Bonnie Clark and Artie Grossman walked in the door with more ready to eat meals inside of boxes. They both expressed surprise at Joe's good mood.

Gatraer simply pointed to the paramedics' vacant chairs.

Grossie grinned from ear to ear. "Well all right! That's the best reason of all to take over someone else's clean up detail, isn't it Bonnie?" he chuckled, anticipating the order his boss was about to give.

Bonnie beamed. "Will we know when they know?" she wondered.

"Count on it." replied Joe. "Ponch and Jon are all over this thing." he said, lifting up his own scanning walkie talkie.

"Turn it up, Sarge. So we can hear it." said Artie.

Joe frowned at Grossman's familiarity.

"Uh,...sir." Grossie corrected himself contritely at the look. "Please?"

Joe softened his gaze's challenge and did their request up one better. He turned on the base station radio in the room and flicked on the overhead intercom speakers. They began to play back the fire department frequencies throughout all of Headquarters, CHiP Central.

Officers station wide paused in whatever they were doing briefly until they figured it out that the traffic going on was a definite survivor rescue in progress. Soon, their happy babble about it reached Joe's ears in the briefing room and that made him smile even bigger.

Sargeant Gatraer sat back into the podium's chair and folded his arms across his tan uniformed chest with deep satisfaction. "Okay, Poncherello and Baker, what other rabbits are you going to pull out of your motorcycle helmets today? For once, you two are proving absolutely astounding for fellow officer morale." he mumbled with pride and admiration.

Ponch and Jon stood on the cliff overlooking the bridge site where they could see everything going on from their high vantage point. Frank gestured to the knot of rescuers focused over the crack in the V-bent roadway. "That dog actually found them!" he said, pleased with himself.

"One of them." said Jon, pointing to his radio for clarity.

"Okay, one of them." But then he looked puzzled. "But why there? That's hundreds of feet from where we calculated they'd be." he said.

Baker shrugged as he watched the massive digging operation taking shape below them. "Maybe Johnny and Rosalie had a very good reason for moving from where they first ended up. That's a good sign down there, Ponch. That means that one or both were healthy enough to be mobile for at least a little while in spite of being underground."

Ponch refused to be reassured. "Nah, something's just not right here, Jon." he insisted,  
listening to his instincts. "I'm still telling you that the center of that caisson core is absolutely the best and safest possible place to be right now in a post collapse situation. There's gotta be someone there."

Baker frowned. "You mean someone other than Johnny or Rosalie?"

"Yeah. Makes sense, doesn't it? That's the only reason I can think of that'll drive an EMT and a paramedic out of solid shelter in the middle of a dangerous disaster scene."  
Frank reasoned.

Officer Jon Baker's frown deepened as he considered. "I know it would us."

"Okay then. Let's go share our new idea with the fire department captains and see what they think." Frank nodded.

"Right on, partner. You took the words right out of my mouth." Baker agreed.

A few minutes later, Frank and Jon were in deep debate with Station 51's commander.

"But, sir!" said Frank to Cap. "That's not where he is!" Ponch insisted.

Hank just shot incredulous eyes at the diggers surrounding the fissure that Henry the hound had found. "Well somebody's stuck down there." he shot back at the Hispanic officer.

"Captain, look." said Poncherello more reasonably. "Maybe he was down there and that's what your dog picked up on. That's not the point. Jon and I have reason to believe that Rosalie and Johnny aren't the only ones here." he said, gestured at the whole caisson expansely.

That took Cap aback. "Explain that, officer. Best you can." he encouraged.

Jon and Ponch both began to describe their gut feeling. "That wave may have killed EMT Mel Turner. But it certainly didn't wash away the others out of the ambulance or Henry never would have found any active scent now, you follow?"

Baker took up that angle, trying to be clear. "They walked themselves out, Captain.  
Isn't that what you firemen do all of the time? Walk into danger looking for victims?"

Something almost sad crossed Hank's face. "Especially Gage." he whispered.  
Then he blinked and shook himself as he held up a gloved finger. "All right. Tell you what. I'll have my man, Kelly, take Henry one more circuit around this whole pile. Just looking for another strong scent clue." he capitulated.

"That's all we ask." said Jon Baker.

Ponch's eyes looked worn and frail. "We owe it to anybody else who may still be unaccounted for out here.. We're still inside a survivable time period for people. Even if they've had no food or water since it all happened."

Cap ungloved his hand and whistled piercingly using fingers and teeth, turning every head at the rescue site. "We're refocusing a team to re-examine the core area. There's a thought the missing Mayfair crew may have been moving around after finding other victims. We're going to check it out at the most likely used, safe sheltering spots."

Cooper nodded. "Meyers, Thompson. Go with them with the infrared. If that dog sniffs out another hot spot, let me know a.s.a.p." He ordered the two firefighters.

They nodded and joined Lopez, Stoker and Kelly by the engine who were gearing up with ropes. And Henry.

Mike left his radio monitoring post inside of Engine 51. "I'll be Safety." he volunteered.

"And I'll scout out ahead for any instabilities in front of them with a probe." said Lopez.

"And I'll be watching all three of you." said Hank. "Keep your HTs on!" Stanley said,  
the ultimate firefighting mother hen.

Ponch grinned, big. Then he shrugged at the captain, indicating himself and his partner.  
"Extra pair of eyes?" he offered.

Hank angled his head. "I'm not your supervisor enough to try and stop you." he grinned.  
"Watch your backs!"

"We will." said Jon Baker.

Then he and Ponch carefully picked their way over the dusty concrete rocks and jumbled bits of torn suspension cable wire threads, nimbly following in Henry the Bassett's footsteps, exactly.

Cooper looked over a jack hammer operator's shoulder and tapped him to get his attention.  
The man glanced up at the USAR commander instantly."How does it feel?" Robert asked.

"Slow going." said the construction worker. "I'd be surprised if we break through to the victim within forty eight hours."

"Two days?" Cooper gaped.

"That's right. You see this top layer ain't the only one we gotta chip through. There's a second one that's completely unfractured and still intact, lying pancaked underneath it."

Robert's face began to growl.

The worker thought fast. "But if you get me some TNT- I'll-"

"No. Completely out of the question. This is a fragile broken bridge, mister, not a mine collapse. Just...keep doing what you're doing." Robert snapped in frustration.

"Yes, sir." said the contract excavation man. The burly man slapped down his visor again and immediately started in on the fissure with his powerful jack hammer,  
his bare muscles bulging.

It was half an hour later.

Sweat was pouring off of the whole Station 51 crew.

And Henry.

Chet shouted up the cliff towards Recuperation personnel. "Anybody! We need some water for our dog!" he panted.

"We'll do that." said Roy DeSoto as two personnel armed with hydration packs began to jog down to the bridge rubble.

Brice, Bellingham and Roy climbed down the cliff path and onto the caisson's bed, loaded with equipment.

Chet grinned when he met them halfway, crouching by a staggering Henry as he stroked him encouragingly. "Man, it's good to see you guys. Got a bowl?"

"Not orally. He'll puke it up." said Roy, bending down to flip open the squad's I.V. box. "I just spoke with Doc Coolidge, the vet. He says a ton of saline sub Q will be best to rehydrate him."

"Under the skin?" Chet grimaced.

"Yeah. Dogs pant, remember?" prompted Brice. "Fast metabolisms." he clarified,  
helping Roy set up a short fat needle.

"Okay." Kelly sighed, holding the scruff of Henry's neck. "Glad that's you and not me, pal." he grunted to the dog, patting the bassett on his heaving sides affectionately.

"Hold this." said Bellingham, handing Chet an already set up I.V. bag and tubing.

Then the three paramedics held Henry down and soon had ample fluid flowing into him through the loose skin scruff on top of his shoulders.

"How much are you allowed to give him?" Kelly asked.

"Doesn't matter. He'll start to pee out any excess. That'll be our cue to stop." said Bob, gently petting Henry's foaming face. "We'll cool him off a little, too. We brought ice. And one of USAR's men gave us a search dog vest we can put on him that we can stuff it into."

Chet, Roy, Bob and Brice looked up at where Marco, Ponch, Stoker and Jon were still combing the rocks. And they were still calling Rosalie and Johnny's names.

"Anything new?" Roy asked tightly.

"Not yet. We have to wait for our star pupil here." Chet grimaced, patting Henry with his gloves in just the way the dog liked it. Slowly Henry's energy levels began to pick up again and his eagerness to get back to work began to grow with them.

"Any guesses on who's under there?" Brice asked the others, pointing to the road fissure.

Chet sighed, frustrated.  
"We don't know for sure. But Henry pointed a scent there very strongly. So at the very least, Gage used to be present in that place. Sometime quite recently, if he still isn't."  
replied Kelly. "It's far down but there's still plenty of breathing room they're telling us."

"Good." mumbled Roy as he worked on automatic. Henry began to whine, wanting to get up to search again. It set all the firefighters on edge.

"Boy, it's hot." Bob sighed, fitting the ice vest carefully on Henry around the I.V. catheter that Roy was holding in the dog's pelt.

"It's just the opposite for them. The night chill probably won't leave. Ever. Not until we get them out." Chet qualmed.

-  
Photo: Henry barking up at someone.

Photo: A USAR team preparing a power tool.

Photo: Firemen using a portajack in rubble.

Photo: An open USAR trailer full of gear.

Photo: CHiP Sargeant Joe Gatraer.

Photo: A grinning CHiP officer Artie Grossman.

Photo: An HT on an ambulance seat.

Photo: Roy in a helmet looking tense, outside.

Photo: Ponch in a helmet looking at Jon.

Photo: Jon in a helmet and shades looking at Ponch.

Photo: Cap and Stoker looking into a wall hole.

Photo: Rescuers hydrating Henry the dog by an I.V. set up.

Photo: Marco and Chet in full turnout looking tired.

Photo: A fire department heat imager in action.

Photo: Fractured segments of a collapsed freeway in a bay.

***************************************************  
From:patti k () Sent:Sat 1/01/11 12:13 AM Subject: Light and Dark...

"But not for much longer." said Brice.. "We will get them out. It's just a matter of time, manpower and-"

"A lot of luck." Chet interjected. He suddenly exclaimed in disgust when something hot and wet suddenly began dampening his trouser legs. "Uh, okay guys. He's done."

"That quick?" Bellingham said, looking down fast at Henry.

"That quick." Kelly said, pointing to his newly urine soaked legs and shoes. Then he smiled in spite of it all making fake gagging noises to cheer everyone.

"You'll dry." Roy said seriously, pulling out the catheter of Henry's subcutaneous I.V. "Okay, buddy. You're good to go. Find Johnny, Henry. Seek him out for us.  
He needs you." DeSoto encouraged their dog, who was no longer panting.

Henry lumbered to his feet and swiftly loped back over to the pile that used to be a bridge tower. He was moving so fast that Chet had to half run to keep up with him. The motion caught Cap's attention and he finally noticed Brice,  
Bob and Roy on the caisson. Gripping his HT, he quickly headed in their direction.

Hank noticed the spent I.V. that Roy was holding. "Was that for one of our men?"  
he asked, jogging up to them as they put away their paramedic gear.

"No, Cap. It was for Henry. He was getting a little dry and overheated so Chet flagged us down. We fixed the problem..." DeSoto replied, washing some dog blood off of his fingers using a bottle of alcohol. "...with a little ice and a lot of pushed in fluid."

"You chilled him down? But how-"  
Stanley sighed in relief, tipping his head as he listened to the basset's eager baying.  
It finally settled down into snuffling silence of intense scent trailing. "Ah, the vest."  
he figured out. "Cubes in the pockets?"

"Yep." said Craig Brice. "USAR thought of it."

"Yeah well I wish USAR'd think a little harder about finding Gage and Arnold's whereabouts." Stanley finally grumbled. "They seem to be stuck more on reading all of those maps and coordinates than they are about any actual scouting around."

"Those two waves washed away all the old landmarks. Haven't they realized that yet?" Bob Bellingham said with exasperation. "One search and sweep in a case like that is never enough."

Cap tried to grin. "It's their training controlling their reactions. And all that high tech stuff. That's probably why those two California Highway patrolmen decided to take matters into their own hands by summoning us in order to get Henry. Now that's what I call a good use of a noggin."

"Shh. Don't let anyone USAR hear you say that. They might have a complex." Roy sighed.

Cap let out a long frustrated sigh. Then he looked Roy square in the eyes. "How are you holding up there?"

DeSoto looked up, surprised. "I'm.. not, Cap. To tell you the truth. It's tearing me up inside. All of this not knowing. And for days on end."

"Yeah, well, it's hitting all of us hard, too. But we're finally doing something about that. With Henry. If anyone can sniff out a solution to this whole mess, it's gonna be him. Even the chief says so." said Cap.

"He does?" Roy asked.

"Yep. I guess he remembers Boot and how he helped us out on all of those rescues when he was with us. That kind of track record is something no chief ever overlooks.  
Even if the one doing it has four legs and a tail." Hank replied, rubbing nervous fingers over his lips. "I guess he's banking on it, that Henry is another hidden ace in the deck."

Right then, Henry began howling and baying loudly. Just like he had before at the fissure in the fractured road a few hundred yards away.

The gang went running along the marker tape USAR had laid down, indicating the safe route out.

Captain Cooper met them at a visible hole in an exterior tower wall, ribbed with bent rebar. "What do you got?"

"Another hit on Johnny." Chet told him. "Henry's acting like it's coming from in there." he said pointing into the darkness.

Robert whistled aloud to get the gas sniffer sent in to check out the gap.  
"It's got air flow. That's for sure."

"Maybe that's a way into the core." Ponch said, he and Baker standing near by.

Robert considered. "It could be, we're in the center of the caisson. Maybe this slab came down on top of it." He pulled out a flashlight and hooked it up to a retracting cable wheel and dropped it inside like a fishing line. They all saw its tiny circle of light descend quite a distance down. "That's it! That's the top of the shaft!" Robert cried out.

"That's what we've been looking for." Ponch said eagerly.

"How far down does it go to hit the bottom of the caisson's base?"  
Hank asked.

"About two hundred fifty feet." replied Robert. "They had to dig way down past the floor of the seabed to the bedrock beneath. After that, they built a concrete space sideways to house a mechanical room to keep pumping out seawater."

"This slab doesn't look very thick, Cap. I think all of us might be able to budge it if we threw our shoulders into it." DeSoto suggested.

"Let's do it." said Cooper. Soon the engine crew, Roy, Bob, and Brice along with Ponch, Jon and Robert Cooper were grunting and straining against the obstructing sheet of concrete crumbled over the hole.

An agonizing minute later and the massive weight of the slab gave way to tip off of the rim of the jagged shaft hole.

Cooper zip lined his flashlight probe down to the end of its tether.  
It disappeared with a liquid splash that echoed up to the firefighters.

"Oh.." Chet exclaimed. "It's filling up with water down there!"

Cooper held up a reassuring glove. "That's just the ballast chamber at the very bottom. There's a wall protecting a ring of open spaces leading to the mechanical room around it where the water can't go according to our maps."

Roy began to shuck off his outer turncoat. "I'm rappelling down there."

"So am I." said Brice. "I'll be your anchor man."

"Wait a minute. We don't know if it's safe enough to use ropes. They might get snagged on something, break, and cause a fall." Hank told them.

"That's a chance we have to take. Nothing's safe out here, Cap. And it's not really a risk if we shine enough light down there to show us the way." DeSoto said.

"Okay. But I'm calling in a chopper to lower you two down. Two hundred fifty odd feet is too far to hand winch down without losing grip strength."  
Cap decided.

Robert Cooper accepted a megaphone that one of his men handed to him.  
He hefted it up and shouted down into the shaft. "This is Fire Department Search and Rescue! If anybody is down there, holler back or bang on something!"

All the firemen and the two CHiP officers held their breaths. Kelly even silenced Henry's soft whines with a grip on his muzzle.

Long seconds dragged by with just the sound of rippling water echoing up the shaft. Then they heard it. An older woman's voice. Weak but legible.  
"...we're..here...we're here! thank g*d..." shouted Aunt Gertie. *Bang Bang*

"How many?" Robert shouted down again through the speaker.

There was a long pause.. "...three..."

"Who.. ask them who.." Roy prompted.

"What are your names?" Cooper shouted.

Again came the fatigue cracking, far away feminine voice. "...gertie, bernie and joshua...*cough* ...and somebody else... who died.." sobbed the voice.

A sick stab of fear plunged through the Station 51 gang like a shot.

"Who?" Robert yelled back down.

"...karen..an army gal.. ..please.. get us out of here. ..we're so cold..."

Kelly sighed in relief but was also puzzled when Henry's ears remained pricked with familiarity over the hole. He was making little noises of recognition. "Cap, ask them about Johnny.." Chet urged quietly.

Hank took the megaphone. "Ma'am.. Two paramedic firefighters are gonna come down there to get you. But now we need to know who else is down there with you. We're missing two ambulance personnel, a..Johnny Gage and Rosalie Arnold. Have you seen them?" he said, his voice amplifying greatly in the dark yawning space between them.

"...yes... but they're gone...they went to look for another way out a few hours ago..."

Hank tried to swallow disappointment and happiness. He glanced over and saw that Roy was failing in fighting a flood of tears. "Hang tight,  
Gertie.. We're definitely on the way down." Stanley shouted, letting go of the talk button just in time to avoid broadcasting strong breaking of emotion into his voice. He held a glove tightly to his lips, stifling sobs of relief and half released anxiety.

Robert gripped Cap's shoulder briefly in support before he began barking loud orders to get the second rescue operation of the day underway.

Chet buried his stress, his eyes sparkling brightly with unshed tears as he hugged Henry. "Good boy, Henry. You did it! You found where they are. Way to go, pal. Good job, boy." he said smacking the hound's sides firmly. "Now we're on to something." he sniffed.

::But are we? Are we really?:: Roy's thoughts came unbidden. Even five minutes later when the Coast Guard helicopter hovered overhead, ready to winch them down into the caisson shaft, DeSoto still felt numb and detached.

"Three victims." Dixie reported to Joe, Early and Morton in the Triage Tent that was slowly being taken over by a new out of state team of doctors and nurses. "A geriatric husband and wife and their young nephew."

"Where?" Kel asked.

"Caisson One. And there are good signs that Johnny and Rosalie were there." she said, holding up her radio. "Apparently Station 51's mascot,  
Henry, rooted them out of the pile." she grinned.

"Clever." said Morton.

"Let's go." said Dr. Brackett to Joe and Mike. "We can prioritize and treat the first three right there in the field. Whoever's left of us after transporting the found victims can hang around for when the last two are located and finally freed." he said, snatching up a heavily laden medical bag.

"I've got a Mayfair already waiting outside.." said Dixie.

"You're coming, too. We need a nurse." Brackett barked.

"I wouldn't have it any other way." McCall said, running after them.

"Can you make it on only five hours of sleep?" Mike asked her, concerned, pacing alongside of Dr. Early and Kel with his own medical gear.

"Watch me." she glared right back, thoroughly ending the conversation.

Roy DeSoto and Craig Brice's feet touched down to earth inside of the damp caisson's floor with a wet slosh of bloody mud. They immediately dismissed the smell of death coming from the dark to hasten over to their live victims, sitting framed in sunlight.

The buzz of the hovering chopper sounded very far away, almost ghost like, as it echoed in the silent dripping shaft of the broken caisson.

"How are you all doing?" Roy asked them as a group, quickly moving over to the groggy boy lying on the ground.

"Any injuries?" Brice asked at the same time, making his way towards Bernie who still had caked blood sticking to the back of his head and neck.

"Me and Joshua. I was knocked out and he almost drown. That young firefighter fellow saved all of our lives." said the old man.

"That's our job." said Craig, growing quickly analytical as he fell into a trauma assessment mode. "How about Johnny and Rosalie's conditions?"

"Same as ours." said Gertie. "They were both hungry, but not thirsty. Not since Mr. Gage started these intravenous fluid treatments on us."  
Bernie said, lifting up his arm to show the paramedics Johnny's taping job on him. "He also did the same thing to himself and his young lady friend."

Roy nodded in satisfaction as he looked up from his young patient.  
"Joshua's sleeping from what I can tell. He's stable." Then he cast his head around, searching. His eyes alighted upon the scoop stretcher full of medical gear that Rosalie and Johnny had hauled between them on their journey. He immediately pulled out the biophone and began hailing.

"Wait a minute.. Is that a radio? You mean to tell me that we had that thing here with us this whole time?" Bernie asked with dismay.

Roy set the phone receiver of the black biophone onto his dusty shoulder and nodded reluctantly. "Yes, sir."

"Well why didn't Johnny or Rosalie think to use it?" fumed the old man.

"I don't know the answer to that. He's the only one who can tell us the reason why." Roy answered honestly.

Bernie was shocked into silence and Roy and Brice used that time to get vitals sets and other medical information ready to transmit.

Johnny was lost in a nightmare world. His mind was racing a million miles an hour. "Gotta get to the gear. Gotta poke out all that blood around her heart or she's.." He stopped mumbling in mid crawl when another tremor began to shake the shards of debris jutting into his passageway.

He gave a shout, covered his head and just lay there, squirming in panic, while all h*ll broke loose all around him.

He kept his safety goggled eyes locked tight on the way ahead so he didn't loose his bearings on the rope which was leading back to the caisson core a few hundred feet ahead.

A heavy avalanche of dust, rubble and wire rained down on him,  
ripping a scream out of his throat. He swiped a hand to clear away the film over his visored eyes when suddenly a bright stab of sunlight lanced into them painfully.

Wincing with a cry at the first sight of daylight in nearly three days,  
Johnny squinted, his eyes watering. It was a new way out. Through the new jagged hole about nine inches round, he could see USAR personnel a few hundred yards away, working over a crack in the roadway with a heavy bulldozer. ::That looks like they're near Rosalie!::

For one brief pause, Gage hesitated at the opening that led to tantilizing freedom. He glanced down at the rope in his hand, and then up again to the airy outside. With a small sob, he turned his back on the sun and returned into the deep depths of his prison, following an even stronger emotional pull, feeling along the dust caked guiding rope beneath him. ::I've got to care for her first.:: he murmured mentally. ::She's dying. Then I'll worry about rescue.::

Slowly, Johnny's dragging feet left the pure circle of daylight and retreated back into the blackness.

Roy was with Gertie, the one in the best condition who was now the last being prepared to be stokes lifted out of the shaft by the Coast Guard.  
DeSoto knelt by her basket stretcher and took her hand. "Can you tell me which of these holes they went through?"

"That one. The big one by the fallen slab. But it's partially under water now. I've been watching it." said the aunt, worried. "I think the tide is coming back."

"Brice and I will check it out. Don't worry. We'll find them. We're not leaving until we do. Just close your eyes and soon, you'll be on your way to the hospital." Roy smiled as he toe kicked dirt from off of Gage's played out guide rope lying in the rubble.

"All right." trembled Gertie.

Brice and DeSoto manned the stabilization ropes as Gertie was vertically winched up into the dot sized helicopter far above their heads.

As soon as the pilots signalled clear, Craig and Roy dove for the opening Gertie had indicated with their flashlights.

Right then, a cave-in sprang into horrible existence, rocking the small passageway that held Gage's rope, forcing Brice and DeSoto back into the stable larger room behind them. "AhhhhH!" hollered Roy as they scrambled to safety.

Johnny thought he saw a glimmer of a flashlight just ahead. He began to crawl even faster along the rope, hastening to get there.

He was just about to reach through the last opening when a huge rockfall crashed down in front of him, making him retreat back the way he had come. "No! No! no no no no!" he cried, tearing at the dirt with his gloves as the way back to the caisson's greater space was buried. "Oh, G*d, no! Roy! Is that you? I'm here! I'm-"

Crying, despairing, Johnny began choking in the raised dust cloud and that forced him to retreat along the shifting, pitching narrow passageway back to the only source of clean air available, the new sunlit hole he had passed up.

Once there, the further collapse of the bridge tower grew even stronger. Johnny saw and heard USAR's hasty evacuation that was clearing the caisson of rescue personnel.

A tall green steel spire of the bridge perched at an angle over the roadside fissure where they had been working suddenly splintered from its rivets and gave in to the force of gravity. The tons heavy beam plummeted straight down along its horizontally level length, to land with a deep crash onto the freeway. The whole road beneath it...dropped, crushing all the open spaces beneath it in an instant and the waters of the bay just as quickly covered over the void it left behind.

Gage's mind shattered when he realized that Rosalie's chamber was no more.

Something inside of his heart broke in two and he crawled deeper into what was now his first true love's tomb and embraced a wall of debris rolling towards him with open arms.

-  
Photo: Gage scrambling up a rocky passageway.

Photo: Roy looking stressed in a dark space.

Photo: Dr. Morton looking firm, lecturing.

Photo: Joe and Kel talking and walking down a hallway.

Photo: Dixie in white by a Mayfair.

Photo: USAR personnel evacuating a female victim into a stokes.

Photo: Johnny Gage passing out in a dark hole.

Photo: A dust fall in the dark.

Photo: A massive rubble avalanche collapsing into a hole.

Photo: All but the top of a collapsed bridge spire, underwater.

*******************************************************  
From:patti k () Sent:Sat 1/01/11 9:00 PM Subject: Finale'

Roy and Brice weathered the collapse of their perimeter wall structures on instinct. Pulverized concrete fell noisily around them, and soon thick dust mushroomed up from the floor, rendering visibility inside the core space to zero.

DeSoto gripped the biophone as he took in guarded breaths around an N95 filter mask that Brice quickly handed to him. "What was that?" he asked when it was over.

"The rest of the bridge that was still standing." said Craig. "We're still safe enough right where we are." he said empathetically.

"I'd better let them know." said Roy, coughing. He picked up the biophone receiver and switched frequencies to the squad's unit that he knew Cap was still monitoring. "Mayfair One to Engine 51. We're fine. *cough*. How bad is it out there?"

##The shell around the caisson just gave way. USAR thinks it's the rising tide that's crumbling your infrastructure. You're gonna have to wait until the air clears enough for a chopper to reel you both back up. There's a dust cloud now covering the whole bay.## said Hank on his end. ##A no fly zone for a few minutes.##

"Anybody get hurt?"

There was a long pause on the line.

Then Cap's voice replied quietly. ##We lost the victim under the roadway. What was left of it broke apart and sank underwater right after we abandoned the caisson.##

Roy felt the weight of the world on his shoulders. "Any idea ...which victim it was?" he forced his mouth to ask.

##Not a clue. Henry's still shaken up a bit by all of the noise so it'll be a while to see if he reacts any differently to the change. How's your air?##

"Foul, but breathable. The dust's suspended all the way up the shaft."

##Hang tight. I'm gonna go pester a pilot to get that bird back to recover your *sses.##

"10-4, Engine 51." said Roy wearily, setting the phone receiver back into the black case inside of the scoop stretcher. "We'll be standing by."

Brice looked at him. "Bad news?"

"Yeah, uh,.. Craig, one of them just died. Everybody watched it happen. There's no doubt that it was a fatality."

Brice sat without moving, cleaning his glasses fruitlessly with a gauze pad.  
"That's.. that's- unfortunate." he swallowed dryly, unable to find other words.  
"I'm sorry, DeSoto."

"Yeah, well, I'm not giving up on him yet until I see that second body, dead or alive." Roy rasped.

Brice stood up and stretched his muscles, testing for bruises where several boulders had struck him. He noticed a leak from the ballast tank in the dike in front of them. "We'd better shore this up before we find ourselves swimming in sea water." he finally said.

Roy rose and together, Brice and he jammed a fire department brace that they had in one of their rescue packs to hold it.

Henry was down. He was lying on his side and moaning horrifically.

"What's the matter with him? Did he get hurt escaping?" Ponch asked Bellingham who was crouching over the dog protectively.

"I don't know. I don't see or feel anything wrong. I know nothing hit him. He was in my arms the whole time I was running away." replied Bob.

Jon Baker knelt close and took Henry's muzzle into his hands. "What's the matter boy? It's okay. We're safe. We're off the bridge."

Henry tore himself out of the blond officer's hands and ran back out onto the pile that had only just begun to dust settle..

"Hey! Hey! Henry.. You can't go out there, you crazy dog!" Ponch yelled. "Oh, now he's done it."

But then Henry got where he was going. He started digging frantically at a slab that was tilted upright into the sun. There was a small hole next to a maroon car that was in its shadow. And dust was pouring out of both.

Bark! Bark! Henry said, whirling back to the firefighters lined up on the shoreline. Then he went right back to digging at the stone with his short, blunt claws.

Bob Bellingham swore loudly. "OhmyG*d, somebody's in there."

He, Ponch and Jon Baker ran over, scrambling on the loose debris, to his side.

"Hey! Is anybody in there?" Frank shouted through the hole. He and Bellingham aimed a flashlight inside and waved away thick clouds of dust that was only just beginning to clear. "There's a space in there! Jon, I think I can fit." he said,  
peeling out of his utility belt.

"Be careful." said Baker. "Don't get too hasty. This whole thing's about to come down on top of us. You're planning on crawling under a car."

"I know. I know. I just want to know if I can see anybody! Then I'll come right back out. I promise." said Frank.

Bob finished radioing USAR about their new victim site. Soon, everybody was coming with braces, shovels, stretchers and medical gear.

Bellingham handed him a pack of oral airways. "Use one if you need it."  
he told Frank. Ponch barely squeezed inside the debris choked chamber. He slid down a little deeper into the hole and got a shock. A pair of legs were sticking out of a shallow pool of water. They wore EMT shoes. "Johnny!" the CHiP officer called.

He sprang forward to roll Gage's head out from where he was lying face down in a shallow pool of water. "Hey! He's drowning. Get the gear!" he yelled back out to the others.

Frank began reaching for Johnny's upper body but found that his clothes were caught on a submersed snag beneath the surface of the water. He grabbed out his pocket knife and began cutting Gage free by feel.  
-

Captain Stanley was beside himself next to the engine. "Chet, grab absolutely everything. And keep an eye on Henry. Marco, go grab a backboard. We may need to slide him out of there in alignment. Stoker, get the defibrillator,  
the resuscitator,.. Sh*t! How about all the paramedic gear we have." he ansed.

He watched his men hurry into action. He got on the HT. "Engine 51 to all available hands in the area. We have a Code I at Caisson One who needs rapid extrication and immediate CPR. We need diggers a.s.a.p.!"

Firefighters from all departments began to pour in and one of the first things they did was to push the crushed automobile Ponch had to squeeze under well out of the way with a powerful flip. It rolled down into the bay, ignored. "How long has he been down?" asked one firefighter.

"I don't know." said Bellingham. "All I know is that he may not be breathing." said Bob.

"Okay, men. Dig softly, but haul your butt!" said the grizzled lieutenant from Burbank.

Back at the core, the Coast Guard helicopter let Brice and Roy down by hoist cable to an awaiting set of EMTs by a Mayfair ambulance. Brice and Roy hollered at them as they ran by. "Get oxygen! Lots of it!" said Brice. "Go to the clustering group over there!"

DeSoto ran with the black biophone. When it grew too heavy, he abandoned it to gain a faster speed, following along a trail of USAR team members heading for the same place. Brice noticed but didn't care. His eyes were all on their future patient, a quarter of a mile away.

Mike Stoker hurried with an axe and an air bottle, the only tools left to grab. "Cap,  
what can I do?"

"You've got his head if Ponch is too tired getting him out." Hank told him.

Stoker was beyond frightened when he saw the sea of green steel that they had to wade through to get there, but he nodded compliance.

The radio set on the rocks near Robert Cooper's toy search dog and flag was a base station radio in full notification mode. Hank Stanley listened to the broadcasts over the emergency channel being organized by L.A. Headquarters. Sam was swiftly meeting the needs CA-2 was sending him, to the only rescue currently in progress for the whole city of Torrance.

"My G*d is everybody dead out there?" Dixie realized when she heard dispatchers only assigning body details on the frequency. They were in their Mayfair, heading for the bridge.

Kel Brackett didn't want to upset her, but he knew that she'd find out eventually about the high casualties. He waved their EMT driver to a stop to get directions from a barricaded traffic stop. "Which way to Caisson One? Fast as you can. This is an emergency!"

-  
Ponch was back at Squad 51, soaked to the skin. "He's breathing! He probably just fell in. I need more equipment!"

"What do you need?" asked Jon Baker, helping him as Frank emptied Squad 51's rear cargo hold compartment of power tools and a stretcher.

"He's got trauma. Dressings! And a couple of paramedics or a doctor to take over!" Ponch told him.

"One's on the way. Dr. Brackett." Baker told him.

"I hope he hurries. He's bad." puffed Ponch as he ran back to the hole. In the short time that he had been gone, the opening reaching inside had been widened by a great many hands in a coordinated effort.

Robert Cooper was organizing a gargantuan effort. "Braces, people! That's right.  
The tide's rising fast, but we have plenty of time. Team Two, set up a relay for a stokes stretcher to the cliff top in case we need it. We've lost our chopper to another rescue next town over."

"Yes, sir." said the team.

CA-2 got on HT. ##Battalion 9 to USAR One. Progress report.##

"Our victim is alive. We're still extricating him from the rubble. A doctor is on the way and so are two paramedics." Robert shared.

##10-4. Keep me posted. Battalion out.##

Cap was hoofing it with the red biophone from the Squad and a fresh drug box with an intact seal. ::Has all the cardiac drugs.:: he thought eagerly. He looked up to see the secondary USAR team getting Gage's stokes set for a cliff ascend once he was stabilized.

He glanced to his left and saw Brice and Roy hurrying as fast as they could through the mountains of new debris between them. "He's breathing!" he shouted, to slow them down for safety. "But still trapped!" he reported.

Inside the hole, an L.A. Firefighter felt Johnny's neck for a carotid pulse. "It's still there!" he shared with his crewmates as they continued to dig to get more room for a stokes stretcher. "Breathing's fast. His lungs are full of water."

The man startled when seawater started upwelling and oozing mud into the chamber.  
"It's the tide! Come on! Hurry it up back there!"

Outside, Roy reached the final slope and headed down towards the distant crowd of people. In his hands was a splints kit an EMT thought to hand to him.

"Roy!" came a familiar voice charged with real fear. "I'm right behind you! Dr. Brackett is on his way. He's bringing the defibrillator!" she hollered, using the EMT driver as a way to keep her balance on the slippery hill of debris.

"Keep going! He's alive!" DeSoto encouraged but he didn't slack his pace. Dixie arrived at the maroon car landmark on the beach and stepped onto the caisson after a brief look at Henry who was being held back in Chet's arms.

The sound of gurgling hastened all the firefighters as the tide around them continued to flow in.

"Will this cover us up?" Robert asked a support crew. "What's our elevation?"

"We're below sea level, sir." said the firefighter. Cooper's face grew firm and he bent over double time, coordinating the digging efforts around Gage's hole.

"Go in and check it out! That CHiP officer said part of the tunnel curved downward.  
I don't want anyone getting trapped along with the victim!"

Two firefighters from USAR quickly entered the ground and aimed their flashlights at the bottom. There was a new skin of water forming around Johnny's ears and the first firefighter was still digging as fast as he could at widening the hole.

Suddenly there was another cave-in just outside the pile, at the edges. A crushed car began to float away and the isthmus connecting the beach to the caisson disappeared under the tide's flow. Brice and Bellingham accepted a rope thrown to them as a safety line and waded across.

Inside of the hole sudden shouts immediately began.. "Out now! Out now! We're getting flooded! Everybody grab and arm and a leg!" said Cooper as he saw what was happening down the hole. "He's coming out right now!" he said as he watched the water level surge up quickly. He helped his three crew members slip out and then he manned the rope that the others had managed to tie around the unconscious Gage.

Water began to well up and out of the hole as the sea rush up from below.

"Come on! Pull! Pull!" Robert encouraged as they strained hard against obstructions and snags that were trying to tangle with the rope in the current.  
"He's under water!"

And then Johnny was out, lying limp beneath Cap's arms, bleeding from myriads of tiny scratches and abrasions. Mike Stoker moved quickly to Johnny's head as Hank bent low to check for signs of breathing after he drained free water out of Johnny's nose and mouth.

"Johnny!" screamed Dixie as she saw what was happening. She ran down the slope heedless of the water starting to dampen her with spray. The firefighter who had helped her across the new sea channel let her go.

Hank felt for a pulse. "It's gone. Who's fresh?" Cap panted, exhausted.

"We are." said Jon and Ponch, slipping through the others. "Get the doctor here, Dixie."  
Frank said. "This isn't going to be good enough to last for long."

Kneeling on the pavement, the two CHiPs officers began CPR manually while the firefighters located where their gear had been moved away from the ocean tide.

Stoker and Kelly watched while Dixie made sure they were getting a pulse with compressions. "Good. Keep it up. Kel's almost here. What caused this?" she asked about the cardiac arrest.

"Drowning, ma'am." said Robert.

A few seconds later, well rested firemen took over for Ponch and Jon with a hastily found resuscitator and pure oxygen. Johnny's CPR was switched out without missing a beat.

Nearby, Chet was hugging Henry who was crying fiercely in his arms. "Shhh, easy boy. We're helping him. We haven't lost yet. Please,  
Henry. Don't cry." he sobbed, sniffling.

Hank got mad. He got on the biophone and began hailing. "Engine 51 to Triage Mayfair. We need that doctor a.s.a.p. Our victim has gone into cardiac arrest. Do you copy?"

Chet handed over Henry's leash to a support crew when he saw something.  
He leaned over the edge of the caisson. "Someone's coming. There's a whole crowd of firefighters helping someone across in a boat. They've just passed him up onto the pile. It's Dr. Brackett!"

Kel was barking orders. "Get everybody out of the way. I have the defibrillator!"  
He was wearing green scrubs over his wet clothes. He waved at the Mayfair on shore to wait and then he literally ran to the others' sides. "How long has it been?"

Brice and Bellingham caught up about the same time as Roy and Kel and quickly, the four of them began the steps of advanced life support.

"Guys?" Dix prompted as she began to cut away the sleeves on Gage's soaked Mayfair uniform to get to his arms for an I.V. start.

Hank replied. "Four minutes, twelve seconds, doc. CPR was started about a minute after he lost a pulse."

"Then we've got a chance." Brackett wasted no time. "Dry him off. I'm shocking first." he ordered as he watched Ponch and Jon trade off again with the firefighters to keep Johnny's circulation strong.

"Okay, everybody clear!" McCall warned. All hands lifted away from Johnny's face and chest. "One hundred, two hundred, three hundred..."

"Clear!" Kel called out, delivering the first conversion attempt. Johnny's cold body arched upward under the jolt, then he lay still.

Nearby, EMT Kate Brown, was weeping. "I didn't ever mean for this to happen.." she sobbed. "He's such a nice guy."

Hank moved over to the young girl and offered her a supporting arm around her shoulder.

Dr. Brackett's eye fell on the monitor as he held his paddles in place on Johnny's chest to get a reading. "Nothing. Just artifact from the CPR.  
Somebody find an E.T. He's a French 7.0. We'll tube him once we hit the ambulance. Dixie, I'm going in I.C. If that doesn't work after a second shock, we'll be continuing CPR while we warm him up. He might be having hypothermia issues. I don't want to fly him with congested lungs."

"Here it is, Kel. Five milligrams epinephrine I.C. push. It's capped."  
said Dixie.

Kel shucked it off and then waited for Roy to swab Johnny's ribs down in the proper place. "Okay, going in. Stop ventilations." he told Jon Baker.

Carefully, the long needle was plunged deep into Johnny's left ventricle.

Dr. Brackett injected the stimulant and then pulled out the syringe. He checked it for signs that it had broken off on a rib. It hadn't. "Continue CPR, boys."  
he encouraged the CHiP officers. "We've got a minute to circulate the medication."

Soon, it was time to defibrillate again. A sweaty Cap and Brice watched with tense anxiety as Dr. Brackett delivered another cardioversion attempt. Gage jerked again as the electricity reached his now sun warming muscles.

*Beep! Beep! Beep...*

"Confirm that!" Kel barked.

Brice gripped Johnny's neck. "I've got a pulse."

"Dixie?" Kel asked.

McCall pumped up the blood pressure cuff she had waiting and got a reading.  
"We've got a pressure. 50 systolic." she sighed, rocking back onto her muddy heels.

Dr. Brackett began to smile when a pulse soon returned as far down as Johnny's wrist. "He's back. But we're not out of the woods yet. Keep him on light bag vents. We've got to keep that salt water edema from dropping his perfusion levels.."

"That's it. Nice and easy." she encouraged Baker. "This your first ambu?"

"Yeah, actually." Jon replied.

"Not so bad, eh?" she smiled.

"I don't know if I can say that. His life's literally in my hands here." Baker grinned in awe.

"Oxygen makes it real easy. Just don't squeeze too hard or he'll aspirate."

Baker froze.

"Just kidding. His stomach's clear. I listened. Nothing in it." Dixie said to put him at ease.

Roy sighed and loosen his filthy collar open a few buttons. "Bantering at last.  
That's gotta be the sweetest sound I've ever heard in my entire life."

Jon Baker startled. "Ohh. I think he's fighting this." he said of the ventilations.

"That's cramps. His chemistry's off. Dr. Brackett, the paramedics and I are going to correct that with a little lidocaine and sodium bicarb. Don't worry.  
You can't hurt him and he's out for the count. I just sedated him so he won't go into a seizure from low blood sugar." Dixie shared.

"Roy? Want to get another vitals set?" Kel invited.

"I thought you'd never ask." he said as he grabbed a stethoscope.

Mike Stoker checked the oxygen tank they had going on Gage. "I'll get another tank for the stokes. They're just about ready." he said.

"Brice, start an I.V. of Normal Saline and follow up with the standard glucagon and thiamine. He's probably weak from hunger by now." Dr. Brackett said.

"Yes, sir." said Craig.

Soon the firefighters loaded Johnny up after wrapping warm blankets around his bloodied and shredded ambulance uniform. Jon and Ponch stayed with him like glue, reluctant to leave their patient.

"Ride along." Roy invited. "Chet, you too. You're in the best condition if Johnny needs CPR again."

"Can I bring Henry?" Kelly asked.

"No." Hank grinned. "Maybe you can sneak him into Rampart later when nobody's looking."

"I heard that." said Dr. Brackett.

"Deaf ears, Kel. This dog saved Johnny's life from what I heard."

Dr. Brackett sighed and just looked at his girlfriend. "What is it with you and animals?"

Bark! said Henry.

Ponch and Jon personally volunteered to drive in Johnny's ambulance.

"Oh, we'll stay up front. Nobody's gonna stop us for pointless credentials checks through any of the traffic stops if they see us sitting up there." Ponch said.

"He's got to get to the hospital, right?" Jon joked.

Brice finally relented. "Bellingham and I will meet up with you later." he said to Roy.  
"I hope everything checks out."

"Oh, it will." DeSoto grinned. "You know how good EMTs are at basic life support skills.  
They put us paramedics, somedays, to shame." he celebrated.

"I'm riding along, too. I'm gonna make sure Gage gets over this one." Brackett promised.

On the way, DeSoto was aware of the change in the air. It no longer smelled of salt brine and fire smoke. The breeze, blowing off the mountains to the east, was a godsend.

Kel Brackett sat up straight after listening to Johnny's chest. "Roy, it's time we tube him to give him a rest. He's been working too hard just trying to stay alive."

"I've got it set." Roy said, reaching for the tube of lubricant and a laryngoscope.

Under the bright afternoon sunlight, Mayfair One deftly pulled into Rampart and backed up into its usual space, refreshingly clear of crowds or body bags.  
Things were starting to feel like the ghost of normal once again and the release from stress and worry for Roy was like a tranquilizer dart.

He actually yawned in the ambulance.

"That's not nerves." Kel accused him.

"No. That's coming down." DeSoto admitted. "I think I'm worse than tired."

"I'll have Doctor Morton assess your condition in a check for the fire department."

"Oh, not again." Roy bemoaned. "You know I hate those things. It's not like is a usual general exam by the local friendly doctor."

"Are you saying Mike's not nice?" Chet asked, deliberating setting Roy up.

"No, no. He is. I'm...just not up to getting poked for more blood tests when I'm still wide awake enough to hate it." DeSoto reasoned. He stood up and prepared Johnny for transporting into the E.R. when Ponch and Jon shut the lights off and ran around to open the rear doors.

"Joe?" Kel asked when he came face to face with Joe as he stepped out.

Dr. Early blinked. "I'm a cardiologist. Dixie's here, too. And she's the best d*mned nurse in the hospital. Now move aside." he said, worried for his firefighting friend.

"Wow." said Chet. "I don't think Gage is gonna die now. Not when Joe's got that...kind of attitude. You know, I don't think I've ever seen him quite so worked up before." Kelly remarked as he followed Gage's gurney into the hospital.

"And I don't think he's ever almost lost a friend to a tidal wave before." Dr. Brackett countered. "Let him work."

"Oh, I plan to." Kelly promised. He waved at Ponch and Jon as they got started cleaning up the ambulance and changing the sheets on the Mayfair cot.

"Keep us posted, all right?" Ponch asked him.

"Somebody will. Count in it. Thanks a million, guys. We owe you big time."

"Hey, who's counting?" Baker smiled.

In the treatment room, there was a flurry of activity around Johnny as he was poked,  
prodded, tested, warmed and oxygenated to normal levels that satisfied even all three doctors and the nurse working over him.

"Aspirant pneumonia in his future?" asked Morton, listening to Johnny's rales.

"I don't think so, Mike." said Brackett thoughtfully. "He was only underwater for a minute or two in the unconscious state and it was filtered seawater at that,  
soaked through a few metric tons of concrete and sandstone."

"Pretty clean stuff." Joe agreed.

"Only thing I'm concerned about now is how he'll wake up." Kel told the others.  
"Let's make it easy for him by rebalancing these electrolytes." he said, waving Johnny's lab reports with a flip.

Dr. Early got busy going over every inch of Johnny's skin. "There's a lot of scrapes,  
bumps and bruises, Kel."

Brackett winced and the corner of his eye twitched."They had to drag him out of a pretty rough spot, fighting a strong current all the way."

"When's the last time he got his tetanus?" Joe wondered.

Dixie moved over to the steel tray that had been wheeled in to hold Johnny's medical records and turned the very fat folder open to the top most page. "Last week. For an elbow scraped on an old barbed wire fence."

"Ouch." said Morton.

"I'm sure he said that, too, Mike. He hates shots." Dixie said, misunderstanding.

Joe, Kel and Dr. Morton chuckled merrily and continued to fuss over their patient.

-  
It was two hours later. Roy had found some clean clothes and so had Chet.

Ponch and Jon couldn't wait for news anymore and so they were gathered around Dixie's desk, too, making a pest of themselves for answers.

"Now you know I can't divulge confidential patient information to strangers." McCall told the CHiP officers up front.

"Hey, we're not strangers." said Ponch. "We're coworkers at Mayfair. And we still have a summer to go to solidify a solid bond of friendship, so what do you say?  
Can't you let us know even a little bit of information like whether or not he's awake or sleeping?"

"No visitors." Dixie said firmly. "ICU is off limits to all but direct family."

"Roy got inside." said Ponch.

"Yeah, well he faked an emergency call on an empty room to distract us." said Sharon Walters.

"That little paramedic sneak!" Chet said with admiration. "So why didn't you kick him out?"

"Can't write him up for it because we're still in the middle of a disaster crisis.  
Besides, all our nurses are tied up caring for wave victims. Roy's the perfect volunteer to monitor Mr. Gage while we're busy. Sorry, Charlie." she said,  
walking away.

"It's Chet." Kelly sighed, disappointed.

Brice, Bellingham and Dr. Brackett just chuckled as they sipped on coffee.

It was a week later and Station 51 and Mayfair Ambulance Company were well out of disaster operations.

For once, Johnny Gage wasn't unhappy about being in the hospital.

*Knock knock* came a rap at the door.

"Come in." said Johnny, knowing full well who it was. "Ah, Dixie."

"Your chariot awaits." she said, wheeling in a putrid green wheel chair from the hallway.

"I'm out so soon, eh?" he mumbled.

"Oh, it's not going back to work quite yet." smiled Dr. Brackett, who was signing the discharge papers in the most recent dramatic chapter of Johnny's chart.  
"We're giving your heart a break from firefighting and ambulance work for a while."

Gage crowed sympathy, casting eyes on Roy and Joe Early standing on the other side of the bed. "Just how will you guys cope? Your star paramedic is still out of action."

"Don't flatter yourself." said Roy, leaning forward to steal the magazine out of Gage's hands.

"Hey, I haven't finished reading that yet." Johnny groused.

DeSoto just scoffed good naturedly. "You've been on the same page for hours."

"Oh yeah? Well, I've got a lot on my mind still."

"Oh, yeah? Like what?"

"I don't wanna talk about it."

"The grief counselor says you should." DeSoto said, mercilessly.

Johnny's usual child like personality retreated, leaving behind a sharp visible pain and regret on Johnny's face. "I can't talk about it, now.." he clarified.

Dixie, Joe and Early took their cue and left the room, making up excuses that weren't really any and soon the door closed softly behind them, leaving Roy and Johnny alone in the room with only the fluting EKG monitor for company.

"So when do you want to talk about it?" Roy asked, throwing aside the magazine he really wasn't all that interested in anyway.

"When I get home. I mean, when I really... get home." he emphasized, fresh tears welling in his eyes.

"I understand. I'll be there when you need me, Johnny. Always." DeSoto said.

He squeezed Johnny's shoulder affectionately and left quietly, leaving Gage alone with his painful loss and utter loneliness.

"Oh, Rosalie..." he sobbed, breaking down.

He turned off the alarm on his monitor so his elevated distress wouldn't send in a flock of nurses to check on him about the change.

Then he was back inside of the broken bridge, reliving his last moments together with the absolute, for sure it was, love of his life. ::I don't know how I can ever love again.:: he grieved.

A month later, summer was in full swing in the seaside communities of Carson and Torrance. A lot of rebuilding had yet to be done, as yet only demolition was in progress to get rid of the most painful eye sores.

The country hadn't fallen apart. Nor had anarchy taken over from the riot mobs formed on the night of the disaster.

Fire Station life was pretty much back to the way it was. The metal sign out front was chrome polished, Henry was let out, and Mike Stoker continued to make it his daily pilgrimage to run up the state and national flags up the flag pole after breakfast.

They made a lot of noise but Henry didn't seem to mind.

What he did mind, was his favorite person, being unhappy.

He wandered into the kitchen where the gang was trying fruitlessly to make Johnny laugh with the usual antics. But Gage only sat there, morose and looking lost.

"What's the problem today?" asked Roy, perching on the edge of the table.

"You know why. I'm having those flashbacks again. I keep..seeing her dying right in front of me, over and over again." Gage ansed, restless, but trying to hide his agitation while doing the dishes in his street clothes.

"Gage, she's out of pain." said Chet.

"Well, I'm not." Johnny insisted.

Roy just put a hand to his chin and studied his pal. "What exactly do you see?"

Johnny opened his mouth, and closed it again, several times. Finally, he closed his eyes to fight the tears and came out with it. "I see her in the water." he said simply. "Every time I close my eyes. She's there. It's getting to the point where I can't go to the beach anymore. Or I'll start seeing her."

Henry sensed his distress and motivated himself quickly to get off of the couch to go wrap himself around Johnny's legs sticking underneath the table.

"She's at rest, Johnny. She's not in pain. And when she went, she went quickly and painlessly. Why torture yourself over something you can't change?" Roy asked.

"Because I still love her." Gage said, his eyes welling up as his voice broke.  
"Excuse me. I can't...I'm not going to talk about her any more today, okay?"

He left his towel and his full lunch plate behind and left for the bunk room.

One day, Roy dragged Johnny out to his sports car without any explanation,  
but one. "I can makes this right, Johnny. Just give me a few minutes to prove it to you." DeSoto said happily.

"Where are we going?" Johnny asked dully.

"On a trip."

"It better be a fun one."

Soon, Gage realized where they were headed, even though it was night and he hadn't even really been paying full attention to Roy's driving. "Roy.. Roy..  
no.." he said weakly. "You know how I feel about the ocean."

"Trust me. This time it's different. We don't have to go down by the water.  
We just have to see it."

"No."

"Johnny, we're there. Can you see it?" DeSoto began to tear up. "I just heard an announcement about it last week."

Rising like a blue jewel sparking in the moonlight. A new graceful bridge now stood over the absent bones of the old. Its soothing soft glow against the dark hillsides began to fill both of their hearts with a a quiet peace, like a dream.

"It's beautiful." Johnny said, smiling at last, crying like a baby as all of his sadness and pain washed away in a balm that sank deep into his soul.

"Like she was, Johnny. Now you can let her go."

It was a week after Johnny's grief had begun to ease away from full strength.

One night, Roy shot wide awake in his bed at the station, breaking out in the same cold sweat that had begun in the middle of every since the tidal wave.

In his dreams, every time he slept, DeSoto continued to see the same horror playing out over and over again.

"No!" he shouted, startling the others.

He was wide awake, but in his mind's eye, he still saw Johnny lying broken on the bones of the old bridge.

He tried to settle back down into sleep.

But failed.

In the fall, Mayfair Company's internship had run its full course and the powers that be were well satisfied with the exchange program.

And so was a certain moxy frosted haired ER nurse. She was so happy about regaining her old stomping grounds at Rampart, that she called up the station with the good news just to tell somebody.

Gage hung up the phone with a chuckle and danced a little jig. "Dixie's good for the soul, Roy. You know that?"

"And for the should be an expert on that by now."

Johnny merely scoffed in the back of his throat as he began watching Roy studying the bulletin board hanging over Henry's couch.

To show his disinterest with the world at large, Henry's mouth opened into a ghastly breath stinking drooling yawn that christened the brown leather couch he lay upon, promptly.

"Like he says." Gage pointed, first at Henry and then about the dry notices that they all had to read at least once a week.

"Did you see this?" Roy asked.

"See what?"

"See what? Oh, it's another EMT teaching and training opportunity. Only this time, at a lifeguard station." Johnny read.

"Gonna go for it?"

"No."

"Oh." mumbled Roy. Then he asked cautiously. "Why not?"

"Because it's fall, Roy. Don't be dense." said Brice, laughing it up at the kitchen table.

Gage harrumphed an empathetic you got it gesture at Craig. "You are so smart." he celebrated."

Henry barked.

"Oh, sorry about that." Gage said, bending over to plant a big wet smooch on Henry's muzzle. "You are, too. The best, kiddo. Here, have a bone." he said, pulling one out of his pocket.

Chet chuckled. "He's getting fat, Gage."

"So? He got plenty of exercise this year, and when it mattered." he said, fussing and teasing with Henry's ears, who ate it all up in between wet licks at his T-Bone.

"There is such a thing as too much of a good thing." Kelly warned.

"Oh, yeah? And what's that?" Johnny asked.

Jon Baker and Frank Poncherello were studying their bulletin board at CHiP Central.

"Hey, partner. Look at this." Ponch said cheerfully. "Gonna sign up?"

"Yeah, sure. Looks like another EMT training and teaching class for this winter."  
Baker shrugged. "How about you?"

"Well, you know what they say, Jon. Sometimes there's such a thing as too much of a good thing."

FIN

En Route, Movie Two, Episode 54 Emergency Theater Live.. 2011.  
-

Photo: Brice shouting through rubble.

Photo: Dixie being helped downhill with a trauma box by a Mayfair EMT.

Photo: USAR workmen finding a caisson underwater.

Photo: Brice and Bellingham standing in chest deep water, yelling.

Photo: Cap checking an unconscious, wounded Gage.

Photo: Hank checking Gage for breathing while Stoker assists.

Photo: Chet hugging a search dog vested Henry, who's crying.

Photo: Mayfair EMT Kate Brown, standing in the sun.

Photo: Cap and Brice watching a victim being treated.

Photo: Gage being defibrillated.

Photo: Roy and CHiP Jon Baker loading Gage onto a stretcher.

Photo: Bellingham, Roy and Chet fighing to grab an arm that's under water.

Photo: A ghost of Rosalie Arnold's face superimposed onto a tidal wave.

Photo: Gage's unconscious face superimposed over a collapsed bridge site.

THIS STORY HAS CONCLUDED on January 1st, 2011.  
***This current episode has just been completed..  
***Keep watching here daily for new episode ***scene installments.

This is the pre-production period for..

"Movie Two", Season Eight, Episode Fifty Four En Route

Debut Writing in Progress Launch : June 25th, 2010.

Emergency Theater Live =+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+ Host- Patti Keiper in the United States . Emergency Theater Live Homepage

.com/group/emergencytheaterlive Writer's Pre-Production Distribution Site /  
ETL Emergency Forum at TV

.?gid=8897711333 The Emergency- Station 51 Club on Facebook

Mark VII Productions and Universal owns all of Emergency! and its Characters. 2011. All rights reserved.

***NOTE: All author writings submitted to the theater will be set free onto the web to reach as many readers as we can manage to find. Contributing to any ETL episode means that has permission to publish your work in the manner presented here on this website and on text versions of the stories on other sites. All web audience writers or volunteer consultants and their corresponding emails will be duly recorded and left in place within each show's music and imaged airing episode, pointing out that fan or professional EMS personnel's creative contribution. Theater Host- Emergency Theater Live! ..


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